Agent Anthony Afloat
by SASundance
Summary: Leon told Gibbs he didn't send Tony away as Agent Afloat to punish him. I kept waiting for the writers to supply us with the real reason because it sure seemed to be punitive to me. Since I'm still waiting on that explanation, I decided to come up with my own scenarios. Each story is a stand alone piece and definitely AU.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: K

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me but I do borrow the characters from time to time. Unfortunately I make no money from this obsession.

Series Summary: When the new Director Leon Vance states to Gibbs at the end of the season six episode Agent Afloat that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's deployment as Agent Afloat wasn't a punishment following Jenny Shepard's death, I have to admit that I didn't believe him. I kept waiting for the writers to reveal what was behind the deployment if it wasn't meant as a punishment but like many other issues, it was never addressed again. Even though I believe that his action was punitive, I began to wonder what other possible explanations could there be to explain why Vance sent Tony away like that and I began to come up with several scenarios which are the result of my fertile imagination. I have to say that they are obviously AU and also more than a little tongue-in- cheek but I hope you'll enjoy reading them. Each one is a stand alone story and I also chose to experiment somewhat with writing styles. Let me know what you think :)

A/N This first piece is very heavy on dialogue. A huge thank-you to Arress for offering to beta these pieces that have been sitting around on my computer for a while now. She wrestled my punctuation into submission and made some helpful suggestions that have hopefully improve readability. Any errors are obviously my bad :)

Agent Anthony Afloat

Operation Atonement

The stillness in Autopsy was disturbed as two men entered the domain of cool steel and fluorescent lighting and began their clandestine meeting in the early hours of the morning. The time and place had been chosen because it was deemed to be the place that had the least chance of being discovered by anyone else at NCIS.

"I hope that we are doing the right thing, Doctor. If he ever finds out what's going on, then you do know what he'll do. It could mean the end of your friendship and he will rampage and consume everything in his wake," the new Director warned Dr. Donald Mallard, otherwise affectionately known to his friends as Ducky.

"Yes, Leon, but I made promises to her as my patient, and as an upholder of the Hippocratic Oath, I cannot divulge medical or personal information, even at the cost of a friendship. I don't have a choice. I have to accede to my patient's wishes on that point."

Ducky crossed to where he kept his tea-making utensils and filled his electric jug, before switching it on. It had been a long night and at his age, he found that exhaustion got deep into his bones and a cup of his favourite tea, would be most bracing. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the new director, who nodded at the unspoken inquiry about joining him. Ducky opened his tea-caddy after carefully warming the teapot, adding one spoon for each of them and one for the pot before pouring almost boiling water over the top of the tea leaves and placing a tea-cosy on the teapot to keep it hot and allow it to steep. Director Vance watched the intricate tea making ritual, fascinated before returning to their previous discussion.

"Okay, Doctor, I see that, but I'm really not sure that we have made the right choice about which of these agents is better suited to protecting her. I think that a female agent such as Ziva David would be a better choice for a number of reasons, from personal to professional. I know that we've organised medical care with your assistance, but it won't be around the clock. What if she has personal care issues that need to be dealt with?"

"Leon, that is not going to be an issue, I assure you. Surely, you've read Tony's file? His mother regularly abused alcohol and prescription pills. She had numerous bouts of acute pancreatitis before she was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. Who do you think cleaned up her vomitus and emptied her bed pans or changed her when she soiled herself?"

"Doctor... Ducky, come on; you can't be serious. He was a child of nine when she got cancer. How could he care for his mother, and why would he, even if he could?" Vance was equal parts skeptical and scornful. After all, this was not one of his favourite agents that they were talking about.

"The how, my dear Director, is simple. His father has far more money than is seemingly possible, and like most of the obscenely rich, he is far more concerned with appearances and reputation than pesky issues such as family, morals or ethical behaviour. He brought in a private physician and used one of his wife's trusted maids to care for her at home. He wouldn't allow her to go to a hospital. He also made the boy help to nurse her because he knew he could bully him into staying silent. Anthony was used to performing personal aspects of care even before she became ill due to her over-indulgences." Ducky paused before continuing. "Although it is all there, _if_ you read between the lines in his background check. I trust that what I say here is confidential?"

The new Director simply nodded, too shocked to reply verbally.

"And as to the why, it is simple really. He loved her unconditionally even though she was a drunk and a drug addict, and a mean one at that!" Ducky paused again before proceeding. "He also confessed to me that he took care of an ex-girlfriend he met at college who developed a drug addiction and contracted AIDS. He is no stranger to care-giving, Leon, and for that matter, he also knows his way around the female body rather more than most," he quipped to lighten the atmosphere.

The Director was beginning to look as if Ducky had been delivering physical punches to his jaw, rather than sharing information about an agent that Vance had dismissed as a superficial, preening dandy who acted as if he was God's gift to women. Ducky poured two cups of orange pekoe tea into china mugs and handed one to the director, who breathed in the fragrant brew before sipping the beverage gratefully.

"Are you sure, Ducky?" They had to be talking about a totally different person. He prided himself on his ability to analyse people, based upon their personnel files and interviews.

Ducky smiled sympathetically at the newly minted Director and decided to toss him a bone. "He is possibly the most complex individual that has been my honour to know, but he is a chameleon like none other. His talent for obfuscation is admirable for one that works so much under the radar, but the simple truth is, my friend, that he has been undercover most of his life. Starting in his childhood and adolescence, he was undercover long before he joined the constabulary or NCIS. Most people never bother to see beyond the brash and superficial exterior that he portrays, but if you take the time to win his trust, he is a very different individual. Well worth the effort, though."

Vance was too shell-shocked to deal with the fact that Ducky was telling him he had been played by one of his agents; an agent that he despised no less, so he moved to a less emotive topic.

"Based on your medical report, Doctor, the combination of her injuries incurred during the fire-fight and the progressively degenerative disease means her last few months will be very difficult. Don't you think that she needs a friend to support her? Jenny and Ziva were pretty close when they worked together in Europe."

Ducky frowned at the denseness of the man, but steeled himself to reply civilly to the newest Director of NCIS. "Leon, while they might be good friends, Ziva isn't good at dealing with emotions, her own or other people's. She also isn't good at being around people who are ill either, because she hates to see people that she cares about when they are weak and vulnerable. With her childhood and indoctrination, illness and disability scare her and she deals with it by becoming angry and cold.

"Her partner, on the other hand, is the glue that holds everyone together. He is a protector and good at reading people and responds intuitively when someone is hurting. Apart from all that, Anthony and Jennifer became very close friends during and after Jethro's little sabbatical."

Vance raised his eyebrows, wondering what exactly the good doctor was insinuating, but Ducky smiled wryly and shook his head. "I meant in a platonic sense, Leon. He would never go there, because it would feel like he was betraying his mentor, but she did confess that she might have considered pursuing him if she hadn't been hoping for a reconciliation with Jethro. Sadly, it never came to pass for them, but I think that she would appreciate the somewhat tenuous link to her former lover through the presence of his protégé during her last days. He is also extremely good company, as I can attest, and a fair to middling chess partner. He even plays a passably good hand of bridge. Mother always enjoys his visits, even if she insists he is the Italian furniture mover," he grinned fondly.

Vance wondered if the smile was for his mother or the furniture mover, but he was still not certain that Ducky's plan was going to work.

Ducky's patience was wearing thin, so he decided to tackle the issues still left unspoken. "Going undercover is his specialty. He has the expertise to play the rich younger husband. His mother was English and he is accustomed to dealing with the upper classes, so will fit right in with the role we have created in Kent, under the supervision of my old friend and colleague, Dr Benton Hamilton-White. Benton's patients are all well healed, upper crust types and they will both be able to easily blend in, in clear sight among them. If she is still in danger from any remaining Russians with a score to settle, Anthony will take a bullet for her if need be, but his best protection is his ability to fit in and hide in plain sight.

"Trust me; they will fit in better than your alternative cover story of two lesbians would. It simply wouldn't fly in stodgy English upper class society, especially one between foreigners, without causing one hell of a lot of gossip and curiosity. Anthony, on the other hand, is part English and will have no trouble fitting in. He even does a passably decent upper class accent, courtesy of summers spent with his mother's family. It works perfectly, Leon."

Director Vance was being swayed by the doctor's arguments, but he still had one concern and it was a biggie. "How do we explain his absence for such a long time, Doctor?"

"Tell our friend that you are assigning Anthony as Agent Afloat, Leon. You're already planning on breaking up the team," Ducky suggested.

"Yes, but what happens when our friend tries to contact him when he is supposed to be deployed and he's not there? He's going to go ballistic and won't rest until he finds out the truth. You know what he's like when he thinks he's being left out of the loop."

"I am confident that Jethro will not try to contact him, Leon."

"I don't see how you can be so sure of that, Ducky. They are pretty tight I understand," Director Vance argued.

Ducky smiled sadly and said," Leon, our friend is angry with him still. I've known Gibbs for a very long time. I know how he thinks and how he reacts. He is fairly easy to anticipate once you get to know him. I knew that he would never look inside the body bag, even though he fully intended to when he entered Autopsy."

"Well, that may be so, Ducky, but I happen to know that he doesn't blame either of them for her death. I was there when he told both DiNozzo and David that it wasn't their fault, that she had made up her mind to go out in a blaze of glory, and when she made up her mind there was no way to change it," the Director objected.

"Ah, yes, I see... Well, I was also there when he told his protégé after he found out he was working an undercover operation trying to catch Rene Benoit that he had nothing to apologise for. That he was following the orders of Madame Director; and also again when we thought he had been blown up while courting the lovely Doctor Benoit, and yet he refused to allow the poor lad time off for a dental appointment. He had been working two jobs for months on end and had been in agony with an abscessed tooth that he hadn't been able to see to while he was undercover.

"The implicit message was that he couldn't trust him because he had used dentist appointments as an excuse to cover his absences when he was working for the Director. Then there was that malicious employment of such a skilled investigator's time and effort when they were trying to find a kidnapped baby, just after we watched his beloved mustang car being blown up and we all thought he was dead."

Vance frowned, "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I'm not familiar with that detail of the case."

"Well, the murdered girl, Heidi, I believe her name was, lovely young thing, whose baby was removed from her womb, was in fact a grifter. Although it would be more accurate to say that she was reformed grifter, I suppose. Our friend made the poor lad call up all her previous marks, and there were a lot of them, on the pretext of finding someone with a motive. Even once it became clear that none of her marks were suspects, our Gunny refused to let him off the task until he had called every single one of them," Ducky stated with a glower.

"The lad was heartbroken about losing his beautiful lover and eaten up with guilt over the deception he was forced to perpetrate on the team. It was rather malicious behaviour for someone who had told him that he had nothing to apologise for. His young protégé was no fool, and he knew that actions spoke louder than words and that he was being punished and humiliated as payback for his deception. Perhaps he truly believed that he wasn't angry about being deceived, but I would have to disagree. Jethro is exceptionally skilled at self-denial."

"Lucky that he had you to come to, Ducky," Vance commented rather tightly because he felt that the senior field agent had been pretty screwed by his superior, the former Director, and then apparently his team leader had decided to dole out some unjustified retribution by adding more salt into the wounds it would seem.

"Um... I believe you have gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick, Director. The lad did not come down and whine to me. It was actually our MIT wunderkind who took great delight in regaling me with the tales of his colleague's humiliation. The boy would never be so disloyal to his mentor, despite the punishment," he finished heatedly. Ducky saw the puzzlement in Vance's eyes and offered, "Well, all of the team, not just Jethro, felt like they had lost face because Anthony was able to work undercover without any of them having a clue. They were less than gracious after they found out that they had been duped.

"Anyway, even if our friend thinks he doesn't blame the lad for the director's death, he is not being honest with himself and our very special agent knows it, too. Gibbs won't try and contact him while he is on assignment. I would like to be as sure of winning the lottery as I am in this case," he concluded sadly.

After hearing what Ducky had to say, Vance was inclined to agree and if he did discover that the Agent Afloat assignment was a ruse, they would just have to deal with it then. He agreed that this was probably the best solution all round, but he still thought that there was something that the ME had held back about why he had come up with this plan for his patient and friend.

Seeing Vance's quizzical look, Ducky sighed before admitting, "All right, Director, there is one more reason why I want to do this for my friends. I've known the former director for some time and I know that she was very wrong to use the lad to further her own personal agenda like that. I'm afraid that as her death loomed large, she also began to recognise that and suffer a great deal of guilt for the irreparable pain she had wrought for our pair of young lovers, especially our chameleon agent, who has had more than his fair share of heartache and loss in his young life; she is inordinately fond of him.

"Similarly, I know that the lad is indulging in a severe case of self flagellation over the Director's injuries. Finding out that she is dying has made him feel guilty for his justified anger at her gross misuse of power in using him so badly, and his alacrity in taking her order to stand down at face value. In short, he feels that it is his fault, that he should have disobeyed her direct orders and saved her from being so grievously wounded.

"I would like for Jennifer and Anthony to have the opportunity to make their peace before she passes on, Leon. They both need the resolution, but Anthony, even though he has no reason to, still feels the need to seek atonement. Give him that opportunity please, Director. NCIS owes him no less for all his sacrifices."

Vance patted the elderly ME on the shoulder and said, "Let's make it happen, Dr Mallard," before striding out of Ducky's domain to begin preparations.

**Three months later**

Three men and a lone female gathered together around the simple but elegant casket as Jenna Samuels was being laid to rest in a picturesque cemetery in the county of Kent, England. Leon Vance, the new Director of the Naval Criminal Investigative Agency, Dr Donald Mallard ME, Officer Ziva David of Mossad and Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo aka Antony Samuels, bade farewell to their friend and colleague, Jenny Shepard.

Her four protectors had gathered together to send her off on her final journey and each was sad that at the end of her life, the one person she really loved and regretted walking away from fifteen years ago, was not there, too. The last several weeks had been difficult for the once vibrant and feisty former Director of NCIS and now, finally, she was at peace.

Ducky studied Anthony carefully and could see just how difficult these last months had been on him, too. He had dark shadows under his eyes which bespoke of many sleepless nights, and he had lost a considerable amount of weight during their sojourn in England. He watched his friend's strained face before laying his hand gently on Tony's upper arm, impeccably clad in a Savile Row suit. Anthony had shed his beloved Italian designer garb in keeping with the cover story that he was a rich Brit burying his wife after a long illness.

Ducky couldn't help thinking about their mutual friend, and knew that Anthony was also wishing that he was here, too. Although he was sad that Gibbs never got to be there for her at the end, Jenny was adamant that he not be told. She didn't want his final memories of her to be of an invalid who could barely lift her head off the pillow.

Ducky smiled at Tony and asked fondly," How are you holding up, dear boy?"

Tony realised just how much he had missed the elderly ME these past months. He looked him in the eyes and confessed, "It was pretty tough at times, Ducky. She didn't have an easy time of it and I can understand why she didn't want a lot of people around her at the end. I also think that I'm a bit less angry about the whole business with The Frog. Finding out she was dying must have made her pretty desperate; not that I can forgive her for what she did to Jeanne and me, but I can understand why she did it, I suppose."

He paused pensively before continuing. "Anyway, she was such a proud and independent person and it was a cruel death. I think I know why she wanted to go out by gunfight like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," he offered tiredly. "I'm so glad that you were here at the end, Ducky," he said. "I know she appreciated it and I did, too. Does Jethro suspect anything?"

"No, Anthony, he thinks I am visiting my old Alma Mater to accept an Honorary Degree. The Director is here consulting with our sister intelligence agencies. Luckily, Ziva was also able to get away for Jenny's funeral without suspicion. Gibbs did contact her after the bombing in Morocco, but working for Mossad means that he can't track her movements."

Tony stared at Ducky for a moment before asking the question that had been on his mind for a while, now that Jenny was finally gone. "Has... has Gibbs tried to call me at on the USS Ronald Reagan, Ducky?"

Ducky smiled a little sadly and shook his head. He would not insult his young friend by lying. He watched as Anthony's face fell slightly.

"It's okay, Duck. I know he hasn't forgiven me for Jen or even for the whole Le Grenouille fiasco or Jeanne. I understand, I really do... I don't deserve it... I know," he spoke softly. "Thanks for being here for me always, Ducky. I don't know what I'd do without you and Abbs.

"You should see the amazing postcards she has been sending me since I left Washington. I hate lying to her so much," he rambled, reminding Ducky of dear Abigail, who could talk without taking a breath. "Why do you always make me turn into a babbling idiot, Duck?" Tony grinned half fondly, part exasperated that he had let his mouth run off around the equally garrulous doctor.

Ducky watched him as he moved across and hugged Ziva and thanked her for coming. He leaned forward to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"So, Ziva, I hear that you're heading back to NCIS tomorrow. Can you do something for me? Look after them and glue Probie's fingers to the keyboard? Hug Abby extra hard for me, and watch Gibbs' six, 'cause he is gotta be hurting over Langer right now."

Ziva smiled at her partner and said, "It won't be long until Gibbs gets you transferred back Tony and you can do it all yourself."

Tony smiled back at her, but Ducky was used to decoding many of Anthony's smiles and understood that he was dubious about that prospect.

**Later That Day**

Ducky and Director Vance watched as the green countryside slid away as they approached the outskirts of London, on their way to Heathrow Airport. Both men were pensive as they considered the past three months and how it had concluded with the passing of a former Federal Agent and Agency Director.

"Well, Doctor, I have to admit that your crazy scheme worked out well. I didn't think that would be the case," Vance mused tiredly.

"Yes, Jenny is at rest now and although it wasn't how she wanted to go out, I think that she got to mend some fences with young Anthony, and I think that he feels like he has atoned for her being injured. She said he was a great comfort these past weeks."

"He looks like crap, Doctor," Vance stated. "That's why I told him to take a week off to see his family and to get some sleep. Then he's to rendezvous with the USS Seahawk for duty."

"Why isn't he coming back to Washington, Leon? McGee and Ziva are being transferred back to the team, so why are you sending Anthony out as an Agent Afloat? He needs to be back with his family so we can help him deal with the last few months. I know this isn't your typical undercover mission, but he will still need to decompress, and I know that he missed the team a great deal," Ducky protested heatedly." A bout of depression is a likely scenario given the situation and his recent history."

The director nodded in agreement. "I offered to transfer him back to the team, Ducky, but he said that Gibbs still hasn't forgiven him and he suggested the deployment. He isn't ready to come back yet, and frankly with the background you supplied, and the fact that Gibbs hasn't requested his return yet, I don't think that putting him back into a hostile work environment would be in his best interests either.

"I happen to know that Ms. Scuito has been on Gibbs' case from the get-go about getting DiNozzo reassigned to Washington, and despite the fact that he usually refuses her nothing, he hasn't budged on this." He glowered a bit because Ducky's analysis regarding Gibbs' denial of his anger towards DiNozzo had proved to be absolutely correct.

"DiNozzo has had a great deal of stress in the last year and I think that a new challenge might keep him from brooding too much, Doctor. And given the dry nature of a Navy vessel, I think it is a safe alternative to coming back if Gibbs is still pissed at him." He paused before continuing, "I don't want to see him lose himself, drowning his guilt in a bottle of Scotch."

Ducky wasn't so sure he agreed with the Director, but then he remembered how difficult it had been for Anthony after the team found out about Jeanne Benoit. Perhaps if the team spent some time without him, they would come to realise exactly how much Anthony contributed to the team and how he protected them from the worst excesses of Jethro, he mused. Ducky resolved that he and Abby wouldn't fill the emotional void and emotional support system that Anthony provided for his team mates and would leave them to their own devices.

They needed a good wake-up call, especially young Timothy, who had been fawned over by the nerdish cyber-crimes staff while he had been holed up in the basement, and he had become convinced of his invincibility and superiority. Being in the sniper sites of Jethro without the buffer of Anthony's presence would hopefully bring him back down to earth a bit.

Leon Vance could still feel Ducky's concerns about DiNozzo. "I intend to speed up this process as much as I can, Ducky. I don't want him festering out there on his own either," he assured the ME.

"What do you intend to do, Director?"

"In a few weeks I intend to insist that Gibbs fill the role of Senior Field Agent on the team and give him the choice of several highly qualified candidates. Then when he rejects them all and demands DiNozzo, I'm going to refuse his request. The way he feels about me will make him even more determined to get DiNozzo back once I say no, so I'm going to make it damned hard," he smirked. "Maybe then, if he has to fight for him, he might just appreciate him more. I get the feeling that lately he has begun to take him for granted."

Ducky regarded Leon Vance with a combination of admiration and surprise before chuckling mightily. "My dear Director, how deliciously Machiavellian of you; I am in the presence of greatness," Ducky chortled, amused by the prospect of witnessing the ensuing mêlée. "Congratulations, dear boy, it is brilliant!"


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: K

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me but I do borrow the characters from time to time. Unfortunately I make no money from this obsession.

Series Summary: When the new Director Leon Vance states to Gibbs at the end of the season six episode Agent Afloat that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's deployment as Agent Afloat wasn't a punishment following Jenny Shepard's death, I have to admit that I didn't believe him. I kept waiting for the writers to reveal what was behind the deployment if it wasn't meant as a punishment but like many other issues, it was never addressed again. Even though I believe that his action was punitive, I began to wonder what other possible explanations could there be to explain why Vance sent Tony away like that and I began to come up with several scenarios which are the result of my fertile imagination. I have to say that they are obviously AU and also more than a little tongue-in- cheek but I hope you'll enjoy reading them. Each one is a stand alone story and I also chose to experiment somewhat with writing styles.

A/N The second story in this series is written from Tony's POV and is decidedly AU. A huge thank-you to Arress for offering to beta these pieces that have been sitting around on my computer for a while now. Any errors are obviously my bad :) I have been overwhelmed with the response to the first story so thank you to everyone who left a review (always appreciated and as Arress pointed out, the only form of currency fan fiction writers receive for their efforts) and those of you that favourited and alerted. Love to hear your thoughts too!

And now to the almost obligatory author's rant. I invited readers to tell me what you thought of these pieces and I welcome everyone's opinions, even when they differ from mine and I defend people's right to express them. However, I do not support people's right to use abusive language in order to express their views and for this reason I chose to delete an anonymous review that was discourteous and offensive. As a writer who devotes a great deal of energy to creating pictures using language, profane epithets are anathema to an author... well this one anyway. To tell someone in the crudest of terms that they don't have a right to express their opinion because it differs from the one held by you is extremely hypocritical.

To address several of your statements, everyone has their favourite characters and although you are entitled to your opinion, my stories are predominately Tony-centric as stated in the story summary. While you may feel that Tony is not treated badly by the other members of the team, many, many people would disagree emphatically with your opinion. Once again, I respect your opinion although I can't agree with it. Finally, the point that has had so many of us puzzling over the purpose of sending Tony to sea if it wasn't punishment is that while Vance stated that he split up the team in order to find the mole, it still leaves a black hole in terms of Tony's deployment. Gibbs was assigned to work with the suspects, McGee was sent down to cyber crimes to help track the mole as was Ziva when she returned to Mossad, even if they weren't informed of the purpose of their new positions. Tony was the only team member who seemed to have no purpose in tracking the mole as Agent Afloat. Furthermore, when Langer was identified as the apparent mole, Vance immediately agreed to McGee and Ziva returning to resume their positions on the MCRT even though Ziva wasn't even an NCIS agent. Yet he outright refused to recall Tony and tried to have his position filled by another agent. Thus the comment that his deployment wasn't a punishment begs the question... then what was the purpose?

Okay, folks enough venting and on to the next scenario. Let me know what you think :)

Agent Anthony Afloat

Secrets

Anthony DiNozzo stood gazing out the window of his apartment building as he prepared to leave his former team mates of the Major Crime Response Team for what was certainly an extended period of time. Realistically, he knew that he might never be able to rejoin the team that was the closest thing to family that he had ever known, despite Gibbs' promise to reunite them all as soon as he could. Gibbs was good, and some said he was god-like in what he could achieve, but Tony knew that Gibbs couldn't rewrite destiny as much as he might like to think so or persuade others that it was possible, either.

Tony had packed up what few possessions he would need to take with him for the next few months. He was authorising his attorney to make monthly payments for his rent and utilities, so he didn't need to pack up his apartment, which was one small mercy. If he was able to return to WashingtonDC, he would still have his place to come home to. It was more than he deserved; more than Jenny Shepard had, lying cold and alone in a drawer in autopsy, a Y incision adorning her chest and her brain removed before the skullcap had been cobbled back together as she awaited removal to a funeral home to await burial.

He addressed a copy of his Last Will and Testament to Ducky and a second copy to Gibbs so he would be able to drop them into the mail when he headed off tomorrow. He knew that he needed to draft a brief account of what had transpired over the last several days in case anything should happen to him. Abby always said he had more lives than a cat, but Tony was in no doubt that while he managed to extricate himself from some incredibly sticky situations over the years, one of these days his luck would run out and he needed to prepare for that eventuality, especially given his suspicions about what was behind Jenny's death. He wished he didn't have to share this information with anyone because it was dangerous, but it was even more dangerous to have anyone go searching for information. Basically, it was a no win situation.

Resigned to the distasteful task, Tony poured himself a generous serving of single malt scotch and began to type on his laptop. He just hoped that it never became necessary for anyone to read this account, not because it would shock anyone who read it, but because the information in the document could prove deadly. When he was finally satisfied with his cautious report, cautious because he was walking a fine line between revealing enough but not too much information to ensure the safety of the reader, he printed it off and placed it in the file that he would drop at his attorney's office before he departed.

**Account of events leading up to Director Jenny Shepard's homicide:**

To Whom It May Concern:

They contacted me about a week before Jenny Shepard died in a derelict diner in the Californian desert in a hail of bullets. They 'requested' that I return to the fold for an important assignment, and I ignored them, even though I knew that 'request' was a definite misnomer. I hoped I'd heard the last of them after the last time I had accepted an assignment almost two years ago. I admit that I'd harboured hopes that I was finally free of my past obligations, when I told them I was done with them the last time. I was living in a fool's paradise. I know that now. I will never be free from the poor decision that I made when I was a teenager.

I know now that you don't retire once you join up with these people, but what sixteen-year-old kid, especially a male, is mature enough to understand the consequences of such a monumental decision? Certainly, not I! So, I should have known better; I should have expected that they wouldn't take no for an answer and I should never have ignored their 'request'. They don't do well with being ignored. Nor do they play nice with others.

The next time they 'invited' me to accept their invitation, they mentioned that if I didn't/couldn't accept the assignment that one of my friends might have cause to regret my lapse in patriotism. They also casually mentioned that they were considering recruiting Probie into their elite little family, and I understood it for the threat that is surely was. At that point, I was so freaked out that I contacted them and accepted the damned assignment. That was the night before I left with Ziva on protection detail for NCIS Director Jenny Shepard when she attended the funeral of an old colleague in LA; and we all know how well that turned out.

Now after escorting the Director's body back to NCIS Washington DC, I have had to consider the very real possibility that my former colleagues have made good on their threat to harm one of my friends. Although Jenny was killed by a former nemesis from her black ops era, when she and Special Agent Gibbs worked in Europe, it seems too coincidental that these former Russian agents just happened to find her now. My gut is telling me that I should never have ignored them or underestimated how far they will go to bring me back into the fold again, if it suits their purpose.

Considering the timing of the threat by my former employers, that I didn't agree to play ball and then the death of one of my aforementioned colleagues, my boss no less, after my less than timely acquiescence, and it seems like more than a coincidence. Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidences and neither do I. It is more than likely that my initial attempt to flip them the bird by ignoring them is the reason why the Director is dead, even if she did have a terminal illness that would cause her to die within months anyway. I really wouldn't put it past them to tip off Jenny and Gibbs' Russian cronies about her whereabouts in order to punish me and remind me of what they are capable of. This means, of course, that she died because of me!

So, before my own stupidity gets anymore of my team killed or harmed, I will do what I must, even if I don't have to like it. And I definitely do not like it! But I absolutely wouldn't be able to live with the consequences of them recruiting McGee into the murky, amoral world of the Shadows. Which by the way, is not their real moniker, but if you knew their real identity, I would be endangering you, too. I very much doubt even the Commander in Chief knows of their existence, let alone their real name; they are that secretive. In any case, the Probie is way too much of an innocent to survive the experience, even though he would be way easy to recruit, if the content of his Deep Six pop culture books is anything to go by. No doubt he would be attracted to the perceived mystique and romance of it all, even if the life of a spook is anything but glamorous.

Tim McGee reminds me of that character in the television series MASH called Radar O'Reilly. Radar was smart, but he was also pretty naive and saw things in terms of black and white, good and evil. He was simplistic in his morality, incapable of subterfuge and deception. All traits that the Probie shares, too, which also leave him ripe to be manipulated. His lack of guile and inability to lie convincingly, even when his life depends upon it, is why he doesn't get to do the undercover gigs which need someone to play a black hat. You know, the baddie in those Westerns who is dressed in black and always gets bumped off before the end of the movie?

Well, Tim can never carry off being a bad ass, even halfway convincingly, let alone lie to marks! The problem is that he doesn't have the insight to get why he doesn't get the so called important undercover ops; why he is always left playing the waiter or the room service guy. His attitude is that if someone like me can do it then it can't be rocket science, so someone as smart as he is can do it, too. Poor guy thinks that it is exciting.

He doesn't understand how exhausting it is not having a partner to watch your six. Not being able to ever fully relax enough, to fall into a decent stage four sleep because you might never wake up again. He doesn't understand the emotional cost of playing less than admirable characters or the emotional pain and sense of dislocation when you have to return to yourself. The self-loathing for me is the worst because I battle with the ease that I assume a character. Even if this 'skill' is what keeps me alive, there is a part of me that always wonders if that is actually the real me and all the other stuff is just pretence.

The Shadows began to groom me when I was sixteen years old and attending Rhode IslandMilitaryAcademy after my father sent me away to school and essentially washed his hands of me when I was twelve. I had been identified by a recruiter on the staff as being an ideal candidate, not just in terms of aptitude, but also because psychologically I possessed the right profile. I was estranged from my family and therefore isolated and emotionally needy. These are the same qualities that cults take advantage of in searching for new recruits, in order to exploit and cement loyalty and a sense of belonging towards a guru or authority figure. It was also these attributes that made it easy for the Shadows to seduce me effortlessly into signing on with them. Well, more accurately, to sell my soul to them in a Faustian bargain, even if I didn't realise that was what I was doing at the time.

I was rebellious and angry. I was lonely and scared. I was incredibly insecure and felt worthless, and I was absolutely ripe for the picking. Perfectly poised to be manipulated, glossed up and groomed into the perfect little spook. Moulded and made-over into their creation, which they did by the ridiculously simple device of recognising my strengths. They acknowledged me and made me feel valued for the first time in my life while they appealed to my sense of chivalry in protecting the weak. Oh, yes, they knew exactly what they were doing! That this was my Achilles heel; it was what I had always craved because I had never had experienced it with my family.

I was exactly what they were looking for. Already, I was beginning to excel at sports, and their exhaustive battery of aptitude and physiological testing established that I was capable of achieving an elite professional athlete status in a number of high profile sports. This would be an ideal cover for the clandestine activities that they sought out for their operatives. Who would ever suspect a dumb jock of being a trained assassin or spy? I was too good to pass over and they had already been watching me and biding their time for several years before they finally pounced. They are nothing if not patient, and were willing to invest time and energy into developing super spies.

The vast majority of their 'assets', as they refer to their assassins/come operatives, are elite athletes or musicians and thespians. They are individuals who share one important quality; they can easily move across borders without attracting suspicion, even if they invite attention with their celebrity status. It is the perfect cover, because who would suspect that someone famous would be a trained assassin? After I trashed my knee, or more accurately, when Brad Pitt trashed my knee, I hoped that I would be allowed to retire from my role with the Shadows, but they are nothing if not resourceful, and having poured so much energy and money into my education, they already had a Plan B at the ready. They were never going to let me go, I know that now.

As a child my mother had recognised my musical ability and had me tutored from a young age by a martinet of a piano teacher, and when my career as a professional athlete crumbled, they resurrected my musical one. When I 'accept' their missions, my cover is a classical pianist who is reclusive and emerges periodically to give rare performances around the world. Personally, I prefer jazz and improv to classical music, but needs must be met, I guess. I'm told by those that should know that I am very gifted, but classical music has become forever associated with death and darkness and I take little comfort in any talent that I may have been born with, especially because of the manner in which it was developed.

Anyway…I was already fluent in two languages, not counting English, but they discovered that I had a genuine flair for picking up languages and I was tutored during school breaks in a number of new languages. These tutorials continued into my college years in lieu of vacations, and now I can also speak French, Hebrew, Russian and Chinese fluently, not to mention various Middle Eastern languages, although I am less fluent in these; essentially I understand them better than I speak them.

No one is aware of my proficiency in these extra languages because they cannot be easily explained; unlike Italian and Spanish which can be accounted for by my background. My father is Italian so I learnt to speak it growing up and I picked up Spanish because my childhood nanny was from Barcelona. Except that my mother was English, so she used to refer to Rosa as my governess rather than my nanny. I always called my grandmothers' Nonna and Nana, so nanny would have been a bit too much!

It can be hard ethically to maintain the pretence that I don't speak more than two foreign languages, especially when Ziva is swearing in Hebrew or speaking to one of her Mossad spy contacts discreetly on her phone. It's hard not to feel guilty, knowing that she thinks that her conversations are private and they're not! I do wonder if her contacts have any idea of my own black ops ultra secret spy background, but I don't think so. The Shadows operate so far under the radar that outsiders who learn of their existence are likely to be squished like a bug on a windscreen.

Sometimes though, I catch her watching me quizzically, as if there is something about me that she can't quite figure out. While I am very careful not to let my inner assassin leak out, occasionally he escapes in spite of all my efforts. Peruvian steel, for example, brings out the beast, as do political machinations and being manipulated by people that I should be able to trust.

Apart from my aptitude for languages, they courted me because of my IQ and my skill with firearms. I know that I act like a dumb shit most of the time because I need to fly under the radar. My life and the lives of those around me depend on no one ever discovering the truth about my murky past history with the Shadows. I have hopefully covered up my past association by fabricating some of my personnel records, but it is a constant source of concern that someone will catch on that some of my years as a cop are nothing more than a huge con job.

My absences during college were explained by my being disowned by my Dad, which really was kosher, and my procurement of a partial scholarship at OSU. Truth be told, the Shadows paid for my tuition as well as my living expenses, but the partial scholarship ruse made it believable for me to disappear frequently, on the pretext that I was working to pay my way through college. Actually when I stop and consider it, I was working and damned hard, too. It just wasn't the typical waiting tables or bartending jobs that most college kids do to earn money.

I was also taught the finer points of hacking into secure databases and computers of terrorists and other delightful protagonists. While Probie is the maestro when it comes to all things related to the computer, I am actually no slouch either, except that it all bores me silly. I prefer to be on my feet and doing stuff in the field, so even if I wasn't trying to hide my dubiously acquired skills, I would still be more than happy to act dumb and leave it all up to Probie. He really does enjoy it after all, which is the real difference between us, I suppose. I can do it when I have to, but I don't especially enjoy it; it is a means to an end, but when I watch the excitement on McGee's face when he tries to explain to Gibbs and me how he has developed a computer program to search for some vital clue, I can see his passion.

I've known for years that several neurophysiologists and researchers have dibbs on my brain for dissection purposes when I kick the bucket and that they probably wouldn't be terribly averse to pushing me under a bus to get hold of it sooner, except that it might get squished in the process. I know that they were getting pretty orgasmic when I contracted pneumonic plague a few years ago and I was given a fifteen percent chance of survival. I bet they were busy sharpening their scalpels even while my friend Brad Pitt was trying to pull me through a vicious bout of pneumonia. I'm betting that they were seriously pissed when against the odds, I recovered.

Apparently, my brain is an anomaly, a freak of nature if you will. I scored high on an unusual range of skills. I am a gifted problem solver, which comes in real handy when you are a spy working without back-up. I also have good deductive reasoning, creativity and excel in abstract thought, a combination which seemingly is what enables me to make intuitive leaps of logic as an investigator and identify variables that are seemingly unconnected to the investigation. As is the case with Abby, when it comes to thinking, it seems my brain works best if I am multi-tasking and I am best served by being over stimulated, which is partly why I muck around so much. I found out early on in the game that trying to focus my thoughts doesn't allow my butterfly-like thinking to do its magic or to be able to look for patterns that no one else can see.

I know that my ability to flit around a bunch of topics frustrates the hell out of Gibbs and his Gibbs' slaps are his way of getting me to focus, but the irony is that my freak of a brain just doesn't work that way. I have learnt to not focus, but let my thoughts drift into a sort of free form thinking, while stimulating my brain with a number of extraneous sensory stimuli to allow it to process multiple types of data simultaneously. My strength is not linear processing like most individuals, which makes Gibbs crazy because he thinks I am mucking around and not taking the job seriously; but I can't help the way my brain works.

All I can do is what works for me and accept the head smacks in the spirit in which they are given, even if I've probably lost a fair few brain cells over the time I've spent with him, forever lowering my IQ. Luckily, I am trying to hide my background, so dumb is good. It isn't just that I am trying to keep a low profile with my 'former' employers and NCIS, but I am also hiding from the other federal agencies and clandestine organisations that would try and recruit me in a heartbeat. I have good reason to know that their methods of recruitment wouldn't necessarily be pleasant. Even here, if the director had a clue about my background, I would be transferred out of the MCRT so fast my head would spin and sent off on black ops counter terrorism missions.

Now in the irony of ironies, I had to show at least part of my hand to the new Director Toothpick because this latest assignment that I have been 'persuaded' to carry out will be an extended one, possibly up to two months or more, and so I am going to need his help to cover my absence. To this end, last night when all I wanted to do was mourn the loss of a colleague, I spent hours hacking through secure databases and calling in some markers to find some dirt on Leon. I will need it so he doesn't try and take advantage of me if I make it back after the mission.

Leon's face, when I dropped my little bombshell this morning, was priceless. If this whole situation didn't suck so badly, I might have been tempted to laugh fit to bust, but this is way too serious. Imagine his shock to discover that he was nursing another trained assassin on his gun MCRT who could kill him with a paper clip; although he only knows the bare minimum. He doesn't know about the languages, the hacking, and my information analysis skills. He just knows I have advanced training in the art of killing and that I am a former spy. I wish I could have gotten away with telling him even less.

He was seriously pissed, especially when I wouldn't give him info on the organisation that I was working with. I really hope that I impressed upon him how dangerous it would be for him and his loved ones if he were to try and dig up Intel on the Shadows, because I really don't want to carry around anymore guilt than I do already, and his wife and children are way too precious to risk just so his curiosity can be satisfied. I shared with him my suspicions about Jenny's death and I hope to God that he heeds me. Sure I sound like a paranoid nutcase, but I let the beast off the leash for a couple of minutes, and I think he was stunned to discover my ruthless alpha streak that would give Gibbs a run for his money. Hopefully, it convinced him that I am serious and that they are all in imminent danger unless he follows my instructions completely.

I am entrusting Vance to keep the rest of the team in the dark because they would be in danger if they found out or tried to come to my aid. I can't be responsible for anyone else that I love dying. It would be the death of me, supposing that I am even still alive, I guess. Fortunately, with Jenny's death, Vance was already planning on splitting up the most successful MCRT in order to catch a mole, so the timing couldn't have been better. My cover story is that I am being sent to the USS Ronald Reagan as the Agent Afloat as punishment. If I survive, I will officially be transferred to the USS Seahawk and spend time serving as the Agent Afloat before being reassigned to Washington.

While the prospect of being a navy cop aboard a ship full of five thousand sailors isn't exactly inviting, it has a couple of advantages. When I come off the back of long term undercover Ops, it can take me some time to come back to myself and find my centre. My beast takes a while to submit to being imprisoned in the mental box where I keep him, and my friends would be able to tell straight off that I am off balance if I go back to Washington too soon. They would demand answers that would be far too dangerous for anyone to possess, so if I have to take a vacation at sea for a while, then it is a price that I have to pay to keep all of them safe. Such a small penance really!

I will be forwarding this account of the reasons why I have had to disappear for an extended time, although not the specifics of the actual mission, to my attorney for safe keeping in the event that I am killed or captured and cannot make it back in time to resume my position without arousing the suspicions of my team mates. He has been instructed on what to do with this information in either eventuality. The purpose of this information is to impress upon the reader the importance of doing nothing. Do not investigate or even ask questions. Simply forget that you ever knew Anthony D. DiNozzo. Trust me that it will be safer for everyone if you follow my instructions.

Signed: A.D. DiNozzo Special Agent NCIS

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sighed, overcome with a deep melancholy as he decided to write a personal missive to his mentor. He knew that Gibbs would be furious, disappointed, intent on seeking vengeance, and more than a little shocked that his goofy senior field agent had managed to lie to him for so many years without him catching on. Oh, he knew that Gibbs had only half bought his dumb-assed jock act, but he knew that Jethro had no idea that he was inviting a viper onto his team back in the day in Baltimore.

Yet, even though Gibbs would be homicidally angry at him, he would also be equally driven to avenge his death because no one messed with his team, well apart from Gibbs himself, of course. He knew that this note needed to appeal to what Abby referred to as Jethro's Papa Bear persona and reinforce to him that his job was not to go off all lone wolfish, but remain at home and protect the rest of the team. Tony smiled grimly as he began to type, hoping to find the words that would strike the right chord with the curmudgeonly Marine. Finally, after several abortive attempts and numerous drafts he was happy with his effort and printed it and attached it to the other documents that he was entrusting to his attorney.

_Attention: Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

_Naval Criminal Investigative Service_

_Washington DC Naval Yard_

_USA_

_Dear Jethro_

_I am forwarding this letter and document along with all the incriminating data I have collected over the years about the Shadows, which is my insurance policy, to the safekeeping of my attorney. He has been instructed that in the advent of my death or disappearance, he should arrange for this information to discreetly fall into your hands to warn you not to investigate. If that should happen, Gibbs, I implore you to let me go. Do not try and search for me or try to avenge my death. You have no idea who you're dealing with. I have no wish for anyone else to suffer for my own bad decision all those years ago. Remember, Jethro, I surrender this Intelligence to you only to convince you of the potential danger that you could all face._

_Please keep on watching the team's sixes' and while I think that the threat to recruit McGee was just a device to get me to cooperate, I also wouldn't bet my life on it. Probie is much too guileless for his own safety about a lot of things... well, anything that doesn't pertain to a motherboard or serial processors anyway. They probably have more than enough computer gurus already, but we both know that he would be an easy mark, so save him from himself if they ever come knocking._

_You'll need to feed and walk him regularly, Jethro. Let him off the lead sometimes and ration the Gibbs' slaps, hey? His cranium is nowhere near as tough as mine. Remember, he was my first (and if you are reading this), my only Probie that I ever had and I do not want him broke! He is nearly house trained, but you need to finish bringing him up proper for me. Consider it a favour. Please?_

_Make sure that Ducky takes Ziva to the Ballet sometimes, too. She really loves it, but I don't expect you to go. You'd probably end up shooting someone. Make sure she continues to lighten up. Set her a challenge to forget about killing people with a paperclip. It's just so passé. Give her an assignment to come up with forty ways to kill someone with a kosher matzo ball. You'll know she's fully housebroken when she starts using contractions. Don't expect her to stop murdering idioms, though. I sorta think that she does it on purpose. No one could be an even half-ways decent spy and mangle the English language the way David does. _

_And my dark angel, Abby; you're going to have to be there for the horror movie nights and go with her to those god-awful clubs in seedy parts of the city that she loves going to, to dance and yes, Gibbs, if I have to dance with her, then you do, too. You're also going to have to be on stand-by to pick her up when some sleaze bag is hitting on her and won't leave her alone. And when she dumps her boyfriend, you are going to be sitting around in your PJs ... er sweats... (Do Marines wear PJs?)… And sit through an endless supply of chick flicks that she needs to watch before she finally breaks down crying._

_Thanks, Jethro, for giving me the opportunity to live a normal life and indulge my passion for the investigative process. I owe you my life and my sanity. I expect that the next boat that you build will more than likely be 'The DiNozzo', and I expect you to figure out a way to get the damned thing out of your basement and onto the water. If I find out you burnt my boat, I promise I will find a way to come back from the grave and haunt your every waking hour. I will make your life a misery. Remember, that's a promise Leroy... not ... a... threat! Watch your six and take care of my family for me, Dad! This is probably the only time I will ever get away with calling ya that without earning a slap upside the head._

_With the greatest of respect_

_Anthony D. DiNozzo, Very Special Agent (deceased or disappeared)_

_A/N If anyone is curious, The Shadows are a homage of sorts to a Sci Fi show - Babylon Five._


	3. Chapter 3

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I don't own the NCIS characters but I still like playing with them though. I don't however get any monetary gain for my efforts.

Summary:

A/N Thank your to Arress for her efforts beta-ing this series and allowing me to finally dust it off and upload it. All erors are my bad of course. Thankyou for all the support and reviews and support for the last story 'Secrets.' I also want to thank reviwers for the courteous and considered insights. Seems there are a couple of B-5 fans out there and some of you requested that this piece be expanded upon and become a stand alone series. While I make no promises at the moment, I'll keep it in mind because I guess, the lure of Tony and the"Shadows' is that many of us long for - a return of the competent and smart special agent of the earlier series. I have to warn you that I have several other stories on the go at the moment so I won't even contemplate another series of stories at the moment, but I won't rule out the idea out of hand either :D

This third story in this series is written from Ducky's POV and if you are familiar with my other stories, you'll know that I have a real soft spot for Dr Mallard. Again, remember that these pieces are tongue in cheek because I really do believe that Leon was trying to punish Tony by sending his away to sea, but I still had a lot of fun playing around with these pieces. Let me know what you think.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Mea Culpa

My Dear Director DiNozzo (you've no idea how chuffed I am to call you that, my boy!):

If you are reading this letter, Anthony, you will no doubt already be aware that I have gone to meet my maker. Try not to grieve too long for me because I have had a long and prosperous life. I have been fortunate to travel the world and see so many wondrous sights that most people can only dream about, but more importantly, I have been surrounded by good friends, most especially the years that I worked for NCIS and those following my retirement, which have probably been the best years of my life. I guess that it comes as no surprise to you that I came to regard you and yours as my family. I know that Jethro is a sort of surrogate father as well as mentor to you, but I like to think of you as a favourite great nephew.

You will also have been made aware by my legal emissary that I nominated you as the sole heir to my estate, which includes the brownstone which I purchased following the death of my mother, Victoria Mallard. Mother was also inordinately fond of her young gigolo and looked forward to your visits immensely. I don't know if I ever fully expressed my gratitude for your kindness towards her over the years. She was always somewhat eccentric, but those tendencies magnified in her last few years, so your tact and support was much appreciated. Thank you, Anthony.

Apart from my home in Georgetown, there is also the Mallard ancestral home in Edinburgh, which sadly will have no Mallard issue left to reside there. I know that you are half English, so I hope that you will take your family back home sometimes and remind them of their rich multicultural heritage. Now, you will have ties to Scotland, also.

I have really enjoyed spending time with your offspring these last few years. Your fraternal twins and the cherished baby of the family have been almost as much of a joy to me as I know they are to you. These years after retirement have been very happy ones, being able to indulge myself spoiling your young ones, and I have much gratitude that you and Abigail finally realised that your love was much more than platonic. The most enduring love evolves out of true friendship and compatibility, and I have no doubt that your marriage will stand the test of time. I think that in the end that was probably at the root of all your so-called commitment fears over the years. You didn't want to be abandoned by your paramour once you had surrendered your heart. Frankly, with the examples of your Pater and your mentor, it is hardly surprising for you to harbour those fears and be gun shy of matrimony, now is it?

Thankfully for everyone, myself notwithstanding, you finally overcame the strictures imposed upon you that had, I'm sure, delayed you in acting on your feelings much sooner than you did. You know that I have the utmost admiration for your mentor and I count him amongst my dearest of friends; however, that doesn't change the fact that the man can be a real ass at times. Amongst his most asinine of 'Gibbs' Rules' would have to be his Rule 12. The rule came about after his heart was broken by his then partner, Jenny Shepard, when she chose her career over her lover. While I think that Rule 12 may have been one that worked well enough for Jethro, it did not mean that it was an all encompassing, set in stone, Moses on the Mount with his Ten Commandments type law. Apart from anything else, you and young Abigail were never within the same chain of command, so there should never have been any issue as far as I can see. With your enduring friendship and intimate knowledge of each other's strengths and foibles, I am certain that your partnership will be a loving and enduring one.

Well, back to the point of this missive, Anthony. It probably will come as no surprise to either you or Jethro, that I also had my share of black ops when I was a callow youth. I am basing that surmise on the not infrequent quips and allusions of you and Jethro to that colourful sixties television show -The Man from UNCLE – and Jethro's frequent jokes about my resemblance to the Russian secret agent, Illya Kuryakin, in that show. Neither of you ever asked me straight out if I was a spook, which was fortunate, because if I had answered truthfully, I would have then been forced to kill you, I'm afraid! So, now that I am dead, I can reveal that I was attached for some years to MI6 before resuming my medical career later on when I was working with the military. During my years as a 'spook', I found the need to establish several unofficial bolt holes that were not known to my superiors or peers.

These properties I am also leaving to you, dear boy, because you have made a great many enemies in your still short career, notwithstanding your current position at NCIS. I know that there have been many friendly and hostile attempts to recruit you into the more clandestine counter intelligence community. Not just here, but according to my sources, our English relatives at MI6 have been keen to acquire your not inconsiderable services as well, as you hold dual passports thanks to your English mother. It is my hope that if you ever need to disappear for a while or your family is in danger, that you will now have some options for safe haven in the old country. Some of my former colleagues will contact you in due course and give you the necessary details for these properties. For obvious reasons they are not connected to me in any way, so there will be no way to trace them back to you should you need to go to ground. For your sake, I hope that these preparations will not be required, but knowing that you always have your own contingency plans in place, I'm sure it is better to be safe than sorry. Stay safe!

I have one more thing that I need to confess to you, my friend. It is with a heavy heart that I confess that I have been keeping a secret from you these many years past. For my sins, I can only hope that once I have explained why I did what I did, that you will be able to forgive my subterfuge some day. Know that my actions (although I believed them to be necessary back then, and looking at it in hindsight, I still believe that I made the only decision given the situation) were painful. Ah, yes, no doubt you as a master at the art of deflection can see how I am avoiding the elephant in the room. Forgive me, but I always liked to arrive at the crux of the matter by taking the long way round, as I'm sure you of all people will have noticed. I always was a fan of that Robert Frost piece of prose – The Road Less Travelled!

Well, here goes. I know that you have always been angry at the former Director, Leon Vance, for exiling you from the team as Agent Afloat after that terrible day when Jenny died. The truth is that it was actually on my behest that he sent you away from the team. I'm not sure how much you remember about the night you returned from Los Angeles following Jenny's tragic demise. Neither of us has spoken of that night, so I am uncertain if your memories may have been affected. You were in a very bad space that night when you called me on the phone. By the time I found you in your apartment, you had managed to consume the majority of a bottle of single malt, and when I reached you, you were regarding that Sig Sauer of yours just a little bit too intently for my liking.

That year had been a particularly difficult one for you, as I'm sure that you will remember. You were already reeling from Gibbs abandoning the team and the thankless task you undertook of holding everyone together. By the way, I was so angry with him at the time that I wasn't really there for you, something which I always regretted. Back then, you were living off adrenaline and caffeine while you carried on with your new role, and also the undercover work for the director.

You were consumed with guilt over what you were forced to do and what you had to hide, and then your cover was deliberately blown by the CIA, not to mention there was an attempt on your life, which turned out to be the second one that day. When the team found out, they were not exactly forgiving that you had managed to play them all and they did not make life easy for you. At a time when you truly needed your friends the most, your team chose to hit you when you were down. And I haven't even factored in the terrible tragedy of losing the lovely Paula Cassidy, who I know you loved, during that terrible period.

I know how much it hurt you when your identity was revealed to that delightful young woman, Jeanne Benoit, and how guilty you felt about hurting her. Then when that self same young lady accused you of murdering her father, she managed to break your heart again. Although in true Anthony style, you forgave her because of how she had been hurt by your relationship. Sometimes, dear boy, you can be too quick to forgive others; you would be better served holding the odd grudge or two and learning instead to forgive yourself.

Thankfully, the Director was able to break Ms. Benoit's eyewitness account when she interrogated her, and for that I was extremely grateful to her. I also know that both you and Gibbs, for very different reasons I would surmise, were suspicious that she was actually responsible for the murder of Le Grenouille, even though the CIA claimed credit. By the time you and Ziva were assigned protection detail for the Director in the City of Angels, you were beyond burnt out and drowning in cynicism. Despite your impeccable acting skills, it was apparent to me that you were deeply depressed and facing what we used to refer to as a nervous breakdown. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to see beyond that incredibly effective series of masks that you used to assume with such skill and ease. I did try and talk to you many times, only to be brushed aside. I wish I had tried harder, Anthony.

Then that night when I found you paralytic on the couch after Jenny's death with that desolate expression and the flat emptiness in your eyes, I was truly afraid for you like never before. I know that you're a strong and resilient individual. I also know that you are courageous and stalwart, but even so, you are also human. Everyone one has their breaking point, and your grief and guilt were eating you up. I suspect the knowledge that Jethro was angry with you for following Jenny's orders was the final straw that broke the camel's back for you that night. Yes, we both know that he told you and Ziva that he didn't blame you for the Director's death and that Jethro doesn't lie ... well, except to himself. He probably believed what he said that night, but that doesn't mean that it was the truth.

As you know, it is only human nature to need to blame someone when those we love die, especially when a death is violent and senseless. It wasn't seemly for either of you to get angry or blame Jenny for her death, because she was lying cold and riddled with bullets in my morgue. So you both found a convenient substitute upon which to focus your anger and grief. You blamed yourself because it is what you do, and so did Jethro, regardless of his protestation to the contrary.

So, after locking away your gun and plying you with endless amounts of coffee and IV fluids, I had some hard decisions to make. I knew that being around Jethro was not in your best interests after watching his behaviour when he discovered your undercover work for Jenny. He told you that you had nothing to apologise for because you were following orders, yet I'm afraid his actions did not bear out his stated belief. He allowed your teammates to tease and humiliate you, neither was he above some not-so-subtle barbs.

He didn't trust you, and he made you call those unfortunate men who had been deceived by the young murdered woman, Heidi, who had conned them all, when you were working the case looking for the kidnapped infant. Hardly very subtle behaviour for a mentor, I'm afraid! He was out of line, and there were probably a lot more barbs and slights that you had to endure which I missed, at a time when you needed support, not censure. I couldn't allow you to deal with Jethro's wrath again, especially when he was also dealing with his own regrets about Jenny. Not in the state you were in.

I decided that you needed some time out from the team for your own sanity, and so that you could begin to heal. Equally, I knew that you would resist any form of counselling, or even confiding in me, because you are such a private man. Despite being physically and mentally exhausted, I also knew that it was useless to order you to take time off or go on vacation. Your inability to remain still or relax even when you're injured is the stuff of legends, so I thought that an enforced time aboard ship was the only way to go. Playing navy cop to a boat load of sailors would probably be a walk in the park to a former cop such as yourself; a veritable holiday that wouldn't challenge you greatly.

I figured that it was a job that you could do with one hand tied behind your back and would; therefore, give you time to process all of your emotions from the past year. You have to admit that you sorely needed to recuperate, and I thought it was better to do it in a place where there was no temptation to use alcohol as a crutch or to hide your emotions, which you would have done if you were transferred to another team. It was a no-win situation.

Oh, I knew that you would find such an exile very difficult to endure, because your family means more to you than most, but sometimes those that are closest to us are the ones that have the most power to wound us, too. I agonised long into the night because I know how deeply the abandonment by your father affects you even today, but I couldn't come up with a perfect solution, or even a better one than I chose. I knew that you would not consider going to a clinic to be treated for depression, and I couldn't simply stand by and let you take your own life.

So, I did the only thing that I thought would save you, knowing that you were so depressed that you probably wouldn't resign, even though you were very unhappy about the posting. All I could hope for was that spending time at sea would give you enough perspective and distance to see that Jenny's death was never your fault. I know that you and Jethro always blamed Leon for sending you away as a punishment for Jenny, but it was never about that. It was about some tough love, and it surely hurt me almost as much as it hurt you. I can only hope that the pain was worth it, although looking at how you are now, I think that ultimately it was.

In case you are wondering, Anthony, I made absolutely sure that my concerns for your psychological well-being, the depression and any apparent suicide ideation were never documented anywhere. I may have blackmailed Leon with a report that I wrote recommending that NCIS be investigated for a number of serious procedural breeches and breaking of various federal industrial laws over your treatment during that year when you were working two jobs with precious little support or respite. My final recommendation was that if they didn't do right by you, I would use my considerable influence to report the matter to outside agencies. I even threatened bringing a civil law suit against NCIS for failing in their duty of care to an agent. I think that Leon was more than a little shocked by my ruthless streak!

So, there you have it, my dear boy. I know that I should have told you this long ago, but I was afraid that I would lose your trust and friendship and my cherished membership of your family. I know it was cowardly of me. So, for what I did then, and also for failing to reveal my actions to you and not accepting responsibility for my actions, I humbly beg your forgiveness.

And while I know that you will say that apologies are a sign of weakness, I have to say this is another of Jethro's asinine rules to which I have never ascribed. While it might be a fine edict in theory when dealing with criminals and individuals of low moral standing, it is a ludicrous principle in general, and particularly foolish when it comes to working with a team. I will never forget how you had the integrity to apologise to me for stealing that cadaver out from under my care, while your mentor stood there completely unrepentant about it during that whole Domino debacle.

I watched you struggle for control when Jethro coolly informed you that it was his decision not to trust you with the true nature of the Domino case because he could. He seemed to think that the death of young Agent Langer was justification enough for whatever he needed to do to clear his name; a notion that has such wide gaping holes in logic that you could drive a London double decker bus through it, that I surely don't need to point out. Time immemorial has seen likewise driven individuals claim that the end justifies the means, but that type of thinking is also used by criminals and those who would perpetrate crimes against humanity, too, and is equally flawed.

His other rationale about that particular fiasco, that he kept your team in the dark to keep you safe, was also flawed, because Blind Freddy could have predicted that a Mossad trained former assassin would reflexively react to force in precisely the way that Ziva did when you were overpowered; and yet he failed to anticipate this and you were hurt. It was sheer blind luck that there wasn't a worse outcome, and yet there was neither an apology nor a hint of regret forthcoming about destroying your trust, which I know actually hurt you much more than the beating that you endured. I am sorry that you had to go through that.

Never apologising simply removes the necessity for one to examine one's actions and potentially conclude that we are wrong. It negates personal responsibility and accountability if you follow the logic of the rule, and you and I know that it just isn't so. I happen to believe that it takes a strong individual to be able to recognise their mistakes and offer a genuine apology. I think that it is a sign of weakness not to be able to apologise.

Jethro often manages to be a jackass, and he definitely owes you a bucket load of apologies, just from that year alone. Of course, we both know that he can never admit to himself that he is wrong, let alone actually bring himself to acknowledge it to someone else, so I know that you won't hold your breath waiting for him to apologise. You know along with Rule 12, which you finally decided to disregard, I have always had the utmost respect for you that you never really followed his rule about apologies.

You never hesitated to say you were sorry when you transgressed, and I am not talking about the Ziva-like apologies that are offered, quickly, grudgingly, followed by a verbal attack that shifts the blame onto the transgressed one either. That just leaves a bitter taste in one's mouth and does naught to clear the air, as I'm sure you will attest after that rather pathetic apology Ziva offered after you rescued her in Somalia. Unlike Jethro or Ziva, you understood that it was about recognising and acknowledging your transgression, and in offering a simple yet heartfelt act of contrition, that it can be incredibly empowering, even freeing, to the one on the receiving end. I always admired your empathy for others, and it was what made you such an exceptional team leader. I only wish that you could have experienced the same empowerment when it came to the numerous transgressions of your teammates, especially Jethro.

So, please know that I am truly, deeply, sorry that I recommended that you be transferred off the team all those years ago. I am not sorry that I did what I had to, because you are here still and have a wonderful life, but I am terribly sorry that you were in a situation where it was the best, the only, option available. I also apologise again for not having the courage to offer you my apology face to face. I regret my cowardice immensely, I'm afraid. My only excuse, as I said previously, is that I never wanted the high regard in which you held me to be lost, which was an extremely selfish sentiment, especially knowing the generosity of your spirit.

I hope that one day you can forgive an old man who loved you very much. Yes, I hope for your forgiveness for my sake, because I abhor the idea of you hating me, but mostly for your own sake, because hate is a very destructive emotion to hold onto, and that would be the last thing that I wish upon you, my dear, dear Anthony. Take care, my friend, and enjoy your life and cherish your beautiful family. I know of no one who is more deserving of the happiness that you have found with your beloved Abigail. Be happy, be safe and have a long, long life.

With fondest regards,

Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard, MBBS, ME (retired)


	4. Chapter 4

Rating: K

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me but I do borrow the characters from time to time. Unfortunately I make no money from this obsession.

Series Summary: When the new Director Leon Vance states to Gibbs at the end of the season six episode Agent Afloat that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's deployment as Agent Afloat wasn't a punishment following Jenny Shepard's death, I have to admit that I didn't believe him. I kept waiting for the writers to reveal what was behind the deployment if it wasn't meant as a punishment but like many other issues, it was never addressed again. Even though I believe that his action was punitive, I began to wonder what other possible explanations could there be to explain why Vance sent Tony away like that and I began to come up with several scenarios which are the result of my fertile imagination. I have to say that they are obviously AU and also more than a little tongue-in- cheek but I hope you'll enjoy reading them. Each one is a stand alone story and I also chose to experiment somewhat with writing styles. Let me know what you think :)

A/N Well dear readers, this fourth in the series is the last one I have in this particular series. I do have a further idea for a fifth AU scenario but alas haven't had the time to actually get down to writing it as yet. Hopefully I'll get to it at some stage. I really had fun writing these pieces and even though they were somewhat tongue-in-cheek and not meant to be serious, I still tried to keep the protagonists in character as much as possible. For example, in Secrets I made mention of Tony's dark inner beast, which I truly believe that he hides underneath his clowning behaviour. We've seen glimpses of super scary Tony a few times over the years and I've always felt somewhat disturbed which is I guess, a testament to the skills of MW.

Huge thank you to Arress for agreeing to beta these stories for me. They were hanging around on my computer waiting for someone to tame my punctuation lol. All remaining errors are my bad, of course. Thanks also to everyone who has taken time to leave a review or alerted or faved this series. I really do appreciate all the support and feedback. This story is from Tony's POV and also features a not so nice Leon Vance. Hope you enjoy it.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Coercion

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo climbed the stairs to the mezzanine level leading to MTAC and the Director's domain. Tony was answering a summons from Acting Director Leon Vance, and he was mentally replaying his recent actions to try and figure out what he was getting hauled up to the Big Boss' office for today. Usually, he'd have to run through at least a dozen minor misdemeanors, because he liked to lighten the atmosphere around the office to try to balance out all the evil they encountered and the ugly sights they had to cope with on a daily basis.

Then, of course, there was also the fact that he had his false frat boy, joker reputation to uphold. He'd adopted it along with the skirt chasing love 'em and leave 'em persona when he'd moved to DC as a way to try and deal with his shattered self esteem after Wendy broke off their engagement the night before their wedding. He really thought he'd been broken that night, and his new persona was easier to create and act out than trying to repair the real one.

Tony had resolved to never again surrender so much power to another individual, and for the longest time he'd avoided letting anyone get that close. Yet, this last year he'd made the biggest mistake of his life and then it had all blown up in his face and he'd lost the love of his life. Someone who was really special, and if that wasn't bad enough, then Jeanne tried to frame him for the murder of her father, Always a high achiever, he'd screwed things up so royally, he'd managed to not just ruin his life and break her heart, but turned her into a bitter and twisted monster as well.

He'd also succeeded in alienating his team, who were pissed off that he'd been working undercover for the Director for almost a year and juggling his role on the MCRT without any of them being the wiser. Even though he'd been following orders, despite having taken a crippling body blow and having his heart broken for a second time, they weren't satisfied that he'd suffered enough and decided that they needed to extract their own pound of flesh, too. So lately, he wasn't exactly in the mood to pretend to be the life of the party, and he really couldn't think of anything that might explain why he was being called up to the Director's office, but it had better not be about anymore undercover assignments. He'd probably resign on the spot if that was the case, because apart from dealing with the team's abuse and insecurities and trying to pretend that he could function with a heart that was broken once more, he couldn't do it again.

Tony was beyond exhausted. He'd had been working two jobs for almost 12 months straight and leading a lonely secret existence, with no one to talk or debrief about the case to. He'd tried to talk to Gibbs about taking some time off so he could attempt to put himself back together again, but his boss had just told him he'd made his bed when he'd decided to lay down with the Director and now he could lie in it.

He was also making him do all the grunt work and dirty jobs that normally got done by the most junior agents, but he was too exhausted to protest. Really, in some ways he felt like he deserved all the shit the team was doling out to him, not because he'd deceived them, but because he'd hurt Jeanne and in hurting her, he'd hurt himself, too. Maybe it made him a masochist, but if being abused by Gibbs, Ziva and McGee brought him more suffering, then in a perverted sort of way, it actually made him feel a tiny bit better to suffer. It even seemed like the pain he felt was a way to stay connected to Jeanne, because he knew that it was the only way he could still have her. He didn't deserve more.

Sighing deeply, he opened the door to the outer office and smiled faintly at Cynthia, Jenny Shepard's Personal Assistant. While he waited to enter the inner office, he smirked inwardly, knowing that keeping him waiting out here was a power play by Assistant Director Vance who was currently the Acting Director while Jenny was off doing, who knew what. Tony examined everything that he knew about Leon Vance, which wasn't a lot. He was based out of the San Diego Office and was ambitious, slick and his field experience wasn't all that extensive. He was a politician, pure and simple, and Tony had little patience with the type, especially in light of his dealings with Jenny, who'd duped him into thinking he was bringing down a dangerous arms dealer, instead of gaining retribution for Shepard's dead father who was working with the CIA. When Cynthia finally indicated he could proceed into the inner sanctum, he cast aside his inner musings and prepared to be on his guard around superiors he couldn't trust any more.

Acting Director Vance was sitting behind Jenny's desk examining him as he walked toward the desk.

"Please, take a seat, Special Agent DiNozzo," he indicated to one of the chairs facing the desk. As Tony started sinking into a seat that brought back painful memories of times when he'd been discussing La Grenouille on far too many occasions, he added, "or should I address you as David Paddington, Doctor?"

DiNozzo froze for a millisecond, before recovering by calling upon his considerable undercover skills to help him remain calm and detached, or at least to appear that way. Inwardly, his pulse had begun to race.

"Special Agent is fine, Acting Director. If you want to be precise, the Doctor designation would be somewhat premature, as I've yet to submit my dissertation for review by the Doctoral Committee." _Why the hell did this cretin have to find out about this?_

For some reason, as he spoke these words, he had a feeling that he had said something he shouldn't, but he couldn't figure out why that was.

"Why, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

_Why, you asshole? Why what? Why haven't I submitted my dissertation yet, why am I doing it or why haven't I punched your smug face for meddling in something that isn't anything to do with you? C'mon, Anthony, just breathe and keep your cool._

"I don't understand, Acting Director. Why what?"

"Well, for starters, why haven't you completed your degree? In accordance with the Federal Grant that Former Director Morrow secured for you to undertake the research, it was supposed to be completed by now. So, why isn't it?" he demanded in a superciliously bureaucratic manner.

_Typical, the dick made it sound as if good ol' Director Yes Terday had done me a huge favour getting a grant, when he'd been the one to come to me, begging me to agree to complete my PhD when I'd finished my Masters. Sure, he'd wanted a share of the kudos and Federal Funding grants, that was a part of it, but he'd also argued passionately that this was research crying out to be done and that it should be carried out by someone with experience and a vested interest in making sure it was done right. He was betting that Vance wasn't worried about his Dissertation being a force for good; however, even if he didn't know what Leon Vance's agenda was just yet._

Later, he tried to tell himself it was his entrenched exhaustion that made him see red, but the truth was that this was one of his closely guarded secrets and he was furious to think that this tool, this pencil pusher, now knew about it. Right now, though, he just couldn't self censure.

"Gee, Acting Director, I don't know. It couldn't be because I've had so much time on my hands these last couple of years to work on it, while holding down a full time job that leaves me little time for a life. I mean, I've stood beside my partner while she was gunned down in front of me and I was left with her grey matter splattered on my face, or maybe I could have squeezed in some study time while I was battling a medieval disease and trying not to die. Or perhaps I could have found a minute or five every day when I was team leader of the MCRT for four months and at the same time started working as the personal undercover lackey of Director Shepard, chasing after an arms dealer that the CIA was controlling and had warned her off pursuing. Maybe, instead of trying to track down the killer of my ex-lover and friend, Special AgentCassidy,and her team,I could have been working on my research, or I could always have flipped Fornell and Sacks off when they accused me of murder, again. Seriously, how many times can one guy get set up for murder anyway?" he finished, collapsing in on himself exhaustedly as his adrenaline fueled rant subsided, leaving him drained of animation.

Finally, Tony lifted his head to study Vance who was regarding him like the cat that had just stolen all the cream off the milk. It seemed like Tony had just walked into a carefully laid trap.

"I'm sorry if I seemed to insinuate that you had been slacking off, Special Agent DiNozzo. I know how much you've had on your plate these past couple of years and how much you've sacrificed. I also know that your official requests for time off have been rejected repeatedly by Gibbs, who seems to be blaming you for being too good at undercover work and hoodwinking him and your teammates. So, I think I can help you get time off and you can finish working on your dissertation."

He smiled, although Tony felt like there was a lack of any real emotion in it, and it made him even more wary of Vance's motives. Vance's phony empathy was downright creepy and the hair on the back of his neck rose up in alarm.

"Since I would need about twelve weeks at least to finish of the meta-analysis and personality profiles on subjects and finish writing up the thesis, I can't see how you can help, Acting Director. I can't take off that much time without Gibbs demanding to know what I'm doing, and in light of the The Frog fiasco, he will be suspicious of any extended leave."

"Why, Special Agent?"

_So we are back to this again, are we? "_Why what, sir?"

"Why are you completing this degree under a pseudonym, and what's the significance of that particular name? Is it one of your undercover identities? Why doesn't Gibbs know about your studying?"

_What, it isn't enough that I have spilled blood, sweat and tears for NCIS and had to sacrifice the love of my life and future happiness, but now he expects me to spill my guts and give up my deepest, darkest secrets? Not gonna happen, and what is it with this guy anyway? The whole time we've been jawing, he's been chomping on a toothpick. Not cleaning his teeth or gums with them, just chomping and sucking on the damn thing. Oral fixation much, Dr Freud? So then, time for DiNozzo's Undercover Rule: when you lie, always include a little kernel of truth to make it believable._

Smiling his megawatt and patently fake smile, at least to the few people who knew him well enough, he tackled the easiest question first.

"Nope, not an undercover identity, Acting Director. David is my middle name and Paddington is my mother's maiden name and is also one of my middle names, but I don't use it. I don't need a PhD to be an agent so I prefer to use my middle names instead for the degree. Need my Masters to keep my job as a senior field agent, because there's plenty of competition at the agency and plenty of avarice being on Gibbs' team, so I have to demonstrate I'm competent. But a PhD would affect my credibility in the field and get in the way big time, cuz I work best when people underestimate me. People see me as a big dumb jock and a clown. They can, and do, let down their guard around me and it makes life easier."

None of which was exactly a lie, just not the whole truth either. No way was he going to tell Acting Director Toothpick Masticator that as a kid who'd excelled at sport and been a bookworm, he'd been hazed within an inch of his life when he'd gone to boarding school and then later on at RIMA. How as a cop who was supposed come from money, and was endowed with athleticism and good looks, the hazing had frequently crossed the line from the usual hazing and had often become common assault by his fellow brothers in arms, but how he was powerless to report them without making the situation worse.

He'd learnt the hard way that copping a beating disguised as rough house hazing was preferable to having fellow cops that would hang back on a tough takedown just for ten seconds longer than necessary when he called for assistance, and which could easily prove fatal. Sure, Tony was used to watching out for his own six, but as a cop he'd needed partners that would back him up in tight situations. The only positive was that thanks to Senior's punitive child rearing practices, he'd found a way to cope, usually by making smart alec comments. He decided that it was time to share the love just a little with Vance, for making him recall unhappy memories.

"Don't feel too bad, Acting Director. Smarter men than you have underestimated me and that's the way I like it," Tony smirked obnoxiously.

Okay, it was probably not exactly smart to bait Leon Vance, but damn, it felt good, and it was also the truth. He was gratified to see that Vance was sufficiently pissed at him that the Toothpick Chomper snapped his precious toothpick and was obliged to fish a virgin piece of wood out of his desk and slip it swiftly in his mouth.

_Thinking ya might have been weaned far too early, Leon._

"I see, Special Agent DiNozzo. Well, the issue of requiring three months to finish off your dissertation shouldn't be a problem, or keeping your degree from the rest of your team. I have decided to split up the Major Crime Response Team temporarily and it could be for up to six months. You will be given paid extended leave for three months to complete the PhD that you have been working on as a NCIS employee. Consider it a small gesture towards making up to you all the overtime you've clocked up lately.

"You will attend GWU for the next three months, and seeing that you are keen to remain under the radar, you will need to keep a low profile. I'm sure that I can rely on your undercover skills to assume the identity of David Paddington, while maintaining the façade that you are serving as Agent Afloat on the USS Ronald Reagan. When your dissertation has been submitted to your Doctoral Advisor, you will then transfer to the USS Seahawk and assume the duties of the Agent Afloat to give credence to your cover story about your absence."

_Split up the MCRT, is this guy nuts? "_Well, that is a generous offer, Acting Director Vance, and I'll give it careful consideration, and then discuss it further when Director Shepard returns."

Vance glared at the field agent. "That was not an offer, DiNozzo, it was a directive. This is my decision, not Jennifer Shepard's. The current director will be taking a medical retirement in the near future and Sec Nav has already informed me that my interim status as Director will be made permanent. When my appointment has been officially confirmed, you will no longer have a position on the MCRT, and your junior colleagues will be transferred off the team, too."

_Jenny is sick? Or maybe the CIA and FBI found evidence tying her to Rene Benoit's execution and blackmailed her into resigning so the medical retirement is a ruse. This guy is a whack job, why would anyone want to split up their team? Why is Vance so determined for me to finish the damned Ph.D., and what's in it for him?_

"Look, Special Agent DiNozzo," Vance began with a smarminess that would have done a seasoned senator proud, "I think that we can both help each other out here. I talked with Assistant Director of Homeland Security Tom Morrow, and he assures me your motivation for undertaking the research study is altruistic. He said that you passionately believed that if there was a standardized psychological assessment tool for identifying individuals whose personality traits made them candidates for long term undercover work, it would save lives. It would be a shame if someone like Special Agent McGee was inadvertently assigned a deep cover long term op, now wouldn't it?" he smiled silkily.

_Why do I feel that Vance just made a threat? I didn't exactly warm to this guy before, and now he's making me feel downright creepy, skip past hinky and one click away from spine-chillingly sinister. Still not seeing what's in it for him._

Leon Vance seemed unconcerned with Tony's lack of verbal response. "I understand the title of your dissertation is 'Psychosocial Variables and Personality Traits of Successful Undercover Field Operatives'. Have I got that right, Special Agent?"

Tony sighed wearily. "Tentatively titled at present, although it will probably evolve somewhat before I submit it."

"Well, it's very impressive, Tony. You're doing a really good thing for your law enforcement and special ops colleagues in undertaking this research. It could save lives and change how we select operatives and make undercover operations safer and more effective. I'm keenly committed for you to be able to bring it to resolution, so that it can be put to the uses that inspired you."

_Spoken like the oily politician you have obviously become, Acting Director Vance, Tony snorted inwardly_

"NCIS has taken some serious hits to our reputation of late," Vance continued earnestly, "and it may not be over just yet. The Sec Nav is concerned that our good standing has taken a beating and wants us to lift our profile. Reclaim the repute that our Agency has always enjoyed up until now. I think that a good news story like your dissertation would be an excellent way to restore our credibility amongst our sister agencies and the wider Intelligence community. The fact that a field agent rather than a cloistered academic undertook this piece of research would be a great attention getter, although I can appreciate your passion for anonymity. Therefore, I would be more than happy to protect your identity and could present your research in your stead. That way you would have the satisfaction of knowing that your efforts are helping to save the lives of your fellow law enforcement colleagues, and the gratification of knowing that you are helping restore the tarnished reputation of the Agency. I think it's a win- win situation for everyone."

_Ah, finally, Vance shows his cards. The fact that I need to keep a low profile plays right into his grubby little, ambitious politician's soul. Oh, wait, that's an oxymoron! So, he wants to curry favour with Davenport, and the smarmy bastard isn't above trying to impress all the other alphabet agencies, either. Probably has his eye on some higher profile agency or Sec Nav's chair, and he hasn't even been officially_ appointed_ as Director yet. What a slime ball._

"As generous as your offer sounds, Acting Director, I'm afraid that I have to decline it. I'm not really in the best mental or physical condition to complete the research at the moment. As you pointed out so eloquently, it is important research and I need to do justice to it, which I can't at the moment. I need time to get fit and healthy again, which was why I was looking to take a few weeks off."

Tony tried to sound apologetic, although his body language belied his verbal message. Acting Director Toothpick Muncher was rapidly becoming one of his least favorite people, and exhausted and beaten down as he was right now, it was getting harder and harder to muzzle his smart assed sarcastic side from escaping the iron control he had imposed upon it up to this point.

Vance glared at the about to be former senior field agent. "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough before, DiNozzo. This is not an offer, it is an order. When I split up the Major Case Response Team, you have the choice of going undercover at Quantico and George Washington to complete your research, or you will be immediately assigned as Agent Afloat on the USS Ronald Reagan.

"I understand that it can be difficult to find competent agents who can handle the demands of the role, so I can't promise when I could find a replacement. When the team is reassembled, it may not be possible to hold open your place on Gibbs' team. There are many talented and experienced agents clamoring to get a place on his team. I'm also not sure that I will be keeping the Mossad Liaison Officer position at NCIS any longer. I think that Officer David might better serve her country by returning to Tel Aviv. There's always work for an experienced Kidon operative in that terrorist ravaged environment.

"And, while I was considering placing McGee down in Cyber crimes for the duration of the time that I need Gibbs to investigate an important national security matter for me, perhaps I should allow him to gain more experience in special operations or a long term undercover assignment. I understand he's keen to get some undercover experience, and that he was extremely disappointed that he wasn't picked to head the investigation into Captain Rankin's murder in Baghdad. He's a good agent, if a little green, and could do with some blooding. In fact, the more that I consider the situation, the more I think that there is a lot to be said for having Gibbs train new personnel for the MCRT."

Vance glared at Tony, who returned his glare before nodding. "Oh, I think we understand each other perfectly, Acting Director Vance. You've obviously studied my personnel file and know that while I don't react particularly well to coercion, I would also do just about anything for people that I care about if they are threatened with harm. I can't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to break up a team that has the highest closure rate in the Agency, but given that the Director chose to use me and NCIS to pursue a personal vendetta against Rene Benoit,I'm also feeling pretty damned cynical at the moment."

The gleam of triumph in the smug bastard's eyes was almost too much for Tony. He longed to haul off and beat the smugness off the pond scum's face, but he knew if he did, Vance would make him pay by taking out retribution on one of the team.

"Excellent, DiNozzo! I'm sure that we can work together to the mutual benefit of both of our careers and the future stability of the MCRT. Obviously, I don't have to caution you on the importance of keeping everything that we've discussed confidential, do I? One of the last duties that Director Shepard will undertake in her official capacity at NCIS is to attend the funeral of one of our former agents in Los Angeles the day after tomorrow. You and Officer David have been assigned as her protection detail and the travel arrangements for the assignment can be collected from Cynthia at 1600 this afternoon. As your team is currently on cold cases at the moment, I am giving you and Officer David the rest of today and tomorrow off so you can prepare and rest up. We'll talk again when you return."

Tony knew a dismissal when he heard one. He decided that Vance was almost as adroit at them as Senior. Tony couldn't get out of the Director's office quickly enough, and though he'd been given the next day and a half off, he had the sudden overwhelming desire to talk to Ducky. Jen was pretty tight with the elderly medical examiner. He'd even been on some special ops with her and Jethro in Europe, and if anyone would know about her health, it would be Ducky. Although he would never betray his Hippocratic Oath and discuss someone's medical details, Tony was a skilled interrogator and Ducky was not a particular practiced liar.

Much as he was bitter and disillusioned about what Jenny had done to him and Jeanne, he really hoped she wasn't ill. When he'd worked closely with her, he gotten the impression she was rather a lonely person. Apart from Ducky and maybe Ziva, he didn't think that she had many friends; plenty of contacts that were advantageous to her career, or people that owed her a favour, but not the sort of people that would be there for her when the going got tough.

As he pushed the down button of the elevator that would take him to Autopsy, he mentally began to prepare for his undercover stint. Although it wasn't going to be a dangerous mission, he really didn't want anyone to find out his secret, so he was going to treat this assignment as if his life was at stake. In some ways it was, and because he was going to run the risk of running into colleagues and acquaintances, he was going to need to radically alter his appearance. Tony figured it was time to haul out the coloured contacts, peroxide and fake henna tatts. Maybe he should get some hair extensions while he was at it, he thought tiredly. Much as he hated the thought, he knew that the most important part of his disguise would be the ditching of his designer labels and adoption of that hated Sears casual wear he kept for undercover work, which would truly seal the deal. No one who knew him would believe for a minute that he would ever be seen dead in Sears clothing.

Tony was tempted to just offer up his resignation and get out of Dodge, except he wouldn't put it past the sadistic SOB to make good his threats on the team. While he wasn't exactly happy with the way they'd treated him recently, they were still his family and he didn't want to see anyone harmed because he was being pigheaded. It seemed that Vance effectively had his balls in a vice.

Coda

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo stared down in horror at the bloodied and bullet riddled body that had been Director Jenny Shepard. He was overcome with self-loathing as he silently berated himself for failing to protect her against a horrendous end to her life, and wondered if he had chosen to follow her explicit and direct orders to stand down from her protection detail because he still harbored deep animosity to her. He tried to tell himself that while he was still furious about how she had used him as nothing less that a cheap whore to try to gain vengeance on her father's supposed nemesis, his mistake was due to more prosaic reasons.

Sure, he'd told himself when Ziva protested against them following Jen's orders, that he'd mistakenly believed that the Director had a very personal and private agenda that made her desire privacy after concluding her duties at the funeral of Former Special Agent Dekker. With the information he'd managed to glean from interrogating Ducky about Shepard's health, he figured out her illness was truly serious, even potentially life threatening. When she wanted some time alone, he thought that maybe she was consulting medical experts at the two top medical establishments in California, Cedars- Sinai Medical Center and Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. Because if he'd been in her shoes, it's what he would do, so he'd blown Ziva off with a lame story about Jen having a romantic assignation. Ziva wouldn't let it go and kept on bugging him, so he'd finally made the call himself. When he'd heard a male voice in the background, he'd immediately assumed it was a doctor and made the fatal mistake of not checking his facts.

And now because of him, she was dead and he was wondering if it was because he wanted her to pay for the sins she committed against Jeanne and she'd turned him into a monster bent on revenge. He prayed to a God he wasn't sure existed that he hadn't been motivated by hatred, but how would he ever know that for sure? Moreover, how could he live with the uncertainty of not knowing? Gibbs couldn't bear to breathe the same air as him anymore and obviously thought Tony had been seeking retribution, and he really couldn't blame him for that. Oh, sure, he'd said he didn't blame him, but then he'd run away from the diner as if the hounds of hell had been unleashed on his six. As Gibbs was fond of saying; actions speak louder than words.

Perhaps it was all to the good that Vance was going to break up the team in the very near future. He didn't think that Gibbs would be able to bear being around him anymore and he wasn't sure he could face Gibbs knowing how much he'd screwed up, especially since he would never be certain that he'd just made an honest mistake.


	5. Chapter 5

Rating: K

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me but I do borrow the characters from time to time. Unfortunately I make no money from this obsession.

Series Summary: When the new Director Leon Vance states to Gibbs at the end of the season six episode Agent Afloat that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's deployment as Agent Afloat wasn't a punishment following Jenny Shepard's death, I have to admit that I didn't believe him. I kept waiting for the writers to reveal what was behind the deployment if it wasn't meant as a punishment but like many other issues, it was never addressed again. Even though I believe that his action was punitive, I began to wonder what other possible explanations could there be to explain why Vance sent Tony away like that and I began to come up with several scenarios which are the result of my fertile imagination. I have to say that they are obviously AU and also more than a little tongue-in- cheek but I hope you'll enjoy reading them. Each one is a stand alone story and I also chose to experiment somewhat with writing styles. Let me know what you think :)

Thanks to everyone who left reviews or alerted/favourited the series. This scenario is the last of the five that I originally came up with and with some brainstorming with Arress I have a couple more although not sure when they might come to fruition. Thanks to Arress for beta'ing this series. I hope you enjoy this one.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Need to Know

As he sat at his desk finishing up all the paperwork from the whole Domino fiasco, Leroy Jethro Gibbs gathered together the emergency room medical reports from Officer Ziva David and his Senior Field Agent, Anthony DiNozzo. He'd already glanced at them briefly, but he needed to read them properly before attaching them to the final case report which would need to be signed off by Director Vance. Ziva had sustained a fractured nose, which fortunately didn't require setting, and superficial contusions. There was no further medical follow-up recommended, although Gibbs resolved to have Ducky check her out, nevertheless. Tony had sustained a mild concussion and facial contusions as well. Due to a recently sustained fracture of the cranium, it was recommended close medical monitoring take place for the concussion and any sign of neurological symptoms with further brain scans to be scheduled if necessary. The doctor had ordered an outpatient follow-up in 72 hours.

Gibbs shook his head exasperatedly at the proclivity of his agent to collect concussions. He was about to staple the original medical reports to the case report and file the photocopy in both team members medical files when he realized what he'd just read. He picked up the report to make sure he wasn't imagining things. He reread the sentence again:

_Due to a recently sustained fracture of the cranium, it was recommended close medical monitoring take place for the concussion and any sign neurological symptoms with further brain scans to be scheduled if necessary. _When the Hell had DiNozzo gotten a skull fracture anyway and why hadn't he mentioned anything? He quickly searched his memory and could find no memory of DiNozzo saying anything about an injury. Gibbs looked around, determined to get to the bottom of this latest injury, pissed that he didn't know already.

Gibbs remembered that Tony had gone out for lunch 20 minutes ago, so he wouldn't be back for some time. Impatient as ever, Gibbs couldn't wait, so he laboriously called up DiNozzo's medical file online and searched through the ridiculously large file, focusing on the last four months that Tony had spent as Agent Afloat on the USS Ronald Reagan and Sea Hawk. Nowhere in his medical file was there a mention of any injury, let alone a skull fracture, and that made Gibbs furious. Clearly there had been a serious breach somewhere, because someone had failed to file the appropriate paper work regarding his Senior Field Agent and a serious injury.

Now Gibbs was really pissed off and he snatched up the phone to organize a call to the medical officers on the Seahawk and Reagan to find out who hadn't done their damned job properly. He slammed the phone down on the MTAC technician, who indicated that they would call him when the calls had been set up, without bothering to thank her as usual. He decided to go for coffee in the meantime and then visit Ducky and see if he could get some answers out of him.

The ME mightn't be in the mood to cooperate, though. He was still glacial about Gibbs' team appropriating one of his cadavers, and Ducky was a formidable foe when crossed, and had the memory of an elephant. It would be a while before he could let his anger go. What did he expect, a god-damned apology? Yeah, right, when Hell froze over. Still, Gibbs was just looking for some simple answers and he was a skilled investigator. He'd manage, even with a sulky ME.

When he returned to NCIS he headed straight for Autopsy, knowing that MTAC would call him on his cell when the contact had been set up. He checked just to be on the safe side and found no missed calls. Sometimes the damned stupid thing would switch off its ring thingy for no apparent reason and he'd have to give it a few head slaps. When that didn't work, McGee would have to reboot the damned thing, but it seemed to be working just fine.

Stepping into the autopsy suite, he heard the cultured tones of Ducky as he cross-examined Palmer from a massive textbook on biochemistry. Without looking up, he spoke coolly.

"What did you want, Agent Gibbs. I'm rather busy at the moment."

It seemed that Ducky was still holding on to his ridiculous animosity over his team borrowing one of Ducky's 'patients ', but Gibbs held his tongue, a rare occurrence where the former Gunny was concerned.

"Wanted to talk to ya 'bout something in DiNozzo's medical report from the ER, Duck."

"I see. Mr. Palmer, why don't you put the kettle on? I believe you've earned yourself a brief respite. This won't take long at all, my boy."

The Scottish born medical examiner stared at Gibbs with a less than friendly expression. "What do you want, Jethro?"

Gibbs waved the medical report in front of Ducky's face and he accepted it without speaking. "Have you read it?"

"Yes, as Anthony's de facto physician, I did indeed sight it. If you are concerned, I have been monitoring him and carrying out neuro obs assiduously. So far, he's fine and if he's not, I will inform you."

"That's not what I wanted to talk about. What the Hell is this about a skull fracture?"

"Yes, I read that in the doctor's report, too. I believe that it is why the close monitoring was required. All is in hand, Jethro. He is fine."

Gibbs felt like that was an evasive answer and he didn't appreciate evasion from the ME. "Were you aware of his skull fracture prior to reading this medical report, Ducky?"

"Yes, Jethro, and I'm afraid that that is all I'm prepared to say on this matter. I suggest that you drop your enquiries. Now, I have things that I must attend to, so excuse me." Gibbs glared at his back as he disappeared into his office.

Although he was furious at being kept in the dark, he decided to hold off on confronting DiNozzo because he knew that something was hinky. He'd gather more Intel before challenging him because it would be harder for him to hide anything that way. So, when Tony came back from lunch, his boss watched but said nothing. The tension following the whole Domino situation had made for a strained atmosphere between them and now with Gibbs' suspicion that Tony was keeping secrets from him, it had ratcheted up the tension tenfold.

Several hours later, Gibbs stormed from MTAC, tearing down the stairs to stand threateningly in front of Tony's desk and when DiNozzo continued to ignore him, yelled. "My office, DiNozzo. NOW! "

Tony gave a long suffering sigh, stared at the back of his boss who had stomped off towards the elevator before he rose slowly out of his chair and followed his boss into the 'office'. When the door closed and Gibbs had hit the emergency stop he got up and personal in Tony's face.

"So when were ya going to tell me 'bout your fractured skull, DiNozzo?" He glared at his second in command.

"I wasn't," came back the curt response.

Gibbs was expecting DiNozzo's normal deflecting and joking, some whining and averring that he was fine before finally caving in to Gibbs' domineering personality. His SFA was like a beta wolf, which rolls over and exposes their soft underbelly to switch off any aggression from the alpha wolf; it was a dance that they were both very familiar with. Yet, Tony wasn't being submissive like normal.

Gibbs growled," Well, as your team leader, I want to know."

"No."

"No, DiNozzo? That wasn't a request. That was an order."

"And this is me refusing to answer, Special Agent Gibbs. I am cleared for field status…Well, I was until you sent me into a fake Marine base with a crazy Israeli ninja chick. The said injury did not take place on your watch and it isn't relevant to my current position." Tony spoke slowly, unconcerned by the heightened anger of the man directing his 'Gunny Gibbs' in your face like you're a cringing worm, glare. His own body language was relaxed, almost insolent, as he leaned back against the wall, his long legs casually crossed at the ankles.

"Ya don't want to cross me, DiNozzo. My team, my rules, and I don't work with people that keep secrets. Speaking of which, that ain't the only one you were holding back on, either. Had a real interesting chat with the COB and the Medical Officer on board the USS Ronald Reagan, and they'd both let slip that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo never served as Agent Afloat. So, where the hell were ya for over two months and what were you doing to get a fractured skull?" Gibbs, in contrast to the Senior Field Agent, was getting redder in the face by the minute and the vein in his neck was starting to pulse dangerously.

Tony stared back at his boss, calmly. "What part of 'no' don't ya get, Gibbs? Not gonna happen. It's need to know, Boss, and YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW!"

"I'm team leader and I get to decide who needs to know and I need to know. Told ya I can't have agents on my team that lie and keep secrets from me."

"Well, that's pretty rich coming from you, Gibbs, seeing that you took great pleasure just a few days ago in telling Ducky and me down in Autopsy that Domino was need to know and we didn't, so just suck it up."

"So, this is payback, DiNozzo? Pretty damned childish, don'tcha think? As I said, can't have someone on the team that keeps secrets from me. Tell me where you were or you can clear your desk."

He smirked, knowing that pulling out the ultimate threat would see DiNozzo crumble, so he was completely unprepared when Tony hit the release button, and when the doors of the elevator opened, watched him stride to his desk. In shocked silence, he watched as DiNozzo threw a few things into a box, grab his back pack and walk out without a word. He didn't even wait for the elevator, choosing to use the stairs instead.

Angry beyond reason, the team lead yelled across the bull pen, "You should've stayed on the Seahawk, DiNozzo. Wished I'd never busted my hump getting ya back."

Tony didn't break stride as he yelled back before disappearing down the stairs, "Bite me, Gibbs!"

McGee and Ziva also watched, bewildered at what had happened. McGee looked across at Gibbs and asked cautiously. "What just happened?"

Although Gibbs was wondering the same thing himself, there was no way he was going to appear confused or indecisive in the middle of the bull pen. "DiNozzo was keeping secrets from me. Wasn't Agent Afloat on the Reagan and wouldn't tell me what he was doing, so I fired him."

Gibbs had been bluffing because he honestly thought DiNozzo would cave in like usual, but the bastard had called his bluff, and now after all the crap he'd gone through to get him back on the team, he'd walked out on him. He was so furious he could barely breathe. "Going out. Don't call me unless it's the end of the world or you can pack your stuff, too," he barked grabbing his stuff as he got ready to leave.

Ziva approached him carefully. "What, David?"

"I think that you are making a mistake, Gibbs."

"That so, Officer David? Well, last time I looked, I was the boss," and with that he strode off while Ziva took off at breakneck speed up the stairs and headed toward the Director's office.

Agent Anthony Afloat

McGee just stood there, stunned while the other agents in the room crowded around him clamoring to know what just happened. The problem was that Tim had no idea and could only shake his head. He looked over at Gibbs' desk and saw that he'd left his phone behind, so he guessed that Rule 3 was going to take a beating tonight.

He decided to run a trace on Tony's phone and sure enough he was still in the building and most likely with Abby or Ducky. He ran out of the bull pen and barged into Autopsy hoping to find out what the hell was going on and why Gibbs fired Tony. Ducky was rattling around near the sterilizer, banging the surgical steel instruments and muttering in an uncharacteristically angry manner. Tony was nowhere in sight.

"Um, Ducky, is Tony here?"

"You just missed him, Timothy. He left out of the back garage exit and he was very upset. I've never seen him in such a rage, even when we had a 'little discussion' with Gibbs about Domino. I think it would be prudent to give him time to cool off before you talk to him."

McGee could see that Ducky was distressed as well as angry. "Did Tony tell you that Gibbs fired him?"

Ducky sighed, "indeed, Timothy."

"Ducky, what's going on? Gibbs said Tony never served as Agent Afloat on the Reagan and refused to tell him where he was. Was he playing undercover agent again. Didn't he learn his lesson with The Frog op? No wonder Gibbs was livid. Ziva's right; a team shouldn't have secrets. Tony's such a butt head and now he's gone and broken up the team, just when we were finally back together. Gibbs is gonna be a total bastard to work for now," he vented sounding like a whiney teenager.

"Enough, Timothy. You don't know what you're talking about. Anthony was under orders not to talk about where he was by the Director and Sec Nav, just like when Jenny ordered him not to talk to anyone. He argued that Gibbs needed to know and was threatened with a permanent posting as Agent Afloat if he told him. Then your esteemed leader threatened to fire him if he didn't tell him the truth. Poor boy found himself between a rock and a hard place. You seem to think that he gets pleasure in deceiving you when nothing could be further from the truth. It is terribly lonely and stressful for him to have no one to confide in.

"And I think that it is extremely bad form for you to blame him for keeping secrets when he was given a direct order. Gibbs and Ziva have both held back facts, lied or kept secrets from the rest of the team, Timothy, and nobody tried to make them feel bad or accuse them of breaking…." The phone rang and Ducky broke off mid sentence.

"Autopsy, Dr Mallard. What? When? What is his condition… no, call for the EMTs and I'll be there momentarily. Thank you, Charles."

Ducky turned to McGee. "I have to go, Timothy. That was security; Anthony apparently stepped in front of a car that was speeding in the car garage. He needs my assistance." Ducky grabbed up his medical bag and took off for the elevator as fast has he could and despite the difference in their ages, McGee had to run to keep up with him.

As he hurried after the medical examiner, he thought about what Ducky had been saying about secrets. He remembered how Gibbs had gone off on his own without telling anyone he was meeting Maddie Tylor's kidnappers and how badly that had ended. Without Tony's unbelievable feat of running, shooting, diving and swimming, Gibbs and Maddie would have drowned. He also was pretty damned certain that Ziva and Gibbs had some sort of secret that they were keeping because of how they exchanged looks sometimes, and she'd made him remember after losing his memory and how Gibbs had come back to help her when she called him. Either that or they were sleeping together.

Tim realized that Ducky was right; Tony was following orders and he was glad that it wasn't him that had to lie to Gibbs. The boss had put him in a no win situation. He saw a small crowd of people gathered around and Ducky scurried through the throng and found an unconscious Tony lying awkwardly on the ground. It looked as though he had at the very least collected another concussion because when Ducky checked his pupils they were unequal and he was unresponsive. It also looked as if he had a dislocated shoulder and broken wrist, but Ducky was concerned about internal damage and when the EMTs arrived, they rapidly stabilized him and Ducky leapt into the truck to ride with Tony as he was whisked away to the closest ER.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Gibbs stepped off the elevator to find a deserted bull pen with his two remaining junior team members MIA from their desks and everyone giving him filthy looks or whispering. He wasn't being paranoid; people were talking about him behind his back and glaring at him. From the security staff to janitorial and cyber geeks; all of them where giving him the evil eye. Gibbs spied Rick Balboa and stormed over demanding to know where McGee and David were, but the agent that he'd worked with for 15 years just ignored the question and told him brusquely that the Director wanted to see him ASAP.

Gibbs ignored him and sat down at his desk to call Abby's lab and Autopsy, but no one answered either phone. He tried calling Ducky, Abby, McGee and Ziva on their cell phones, but they didn't pick up or had the damned things switched off. He'd tried calling Ducky yesterday when he got home and had calmed down a little, but Ducky was obviously er ducking his calls, and so was Abby. McGee and Ziva also had their phones off or were avoiding him, and he decided that DiNozzo had probably gone whining to them and they were congregated at his place or maybe Ducky's to run him down. Hell, Abby probably had them all sticking pins in a Gunny Gibbs doll, which might explain why his gut was giving him such a hard time.

He should fire the damn lot of them for taking DiNozzo's side. He slammed down the phone. Not even DiNozzo was picking up, but he was probably laughing his ass off at Gibbs not being able to contact any of his team. He picked up his half empty coffee and stared over at the cleared out desk that until yesterday had belonged to DiNozzo, and felt the rage well up in him. Before he knew what he was doing, he flung his coffee at the empty desk across the bull pen that for eight years, except for four months recently, had housed Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

Just as he let go of the coffee, an angry Director Vance called down from the Mezzanine level, "Special Agent Gibbs, my office, now." As Vance stalked back to his office, the bull pen went eerily silent and it was not lost on Gibbs that he'd said those same words to his former Senior Field Agent just yesterday. He uttered a curse under his breath and stood up, wondering what he'd done that was so terrible. He had a right to insist on loyalty from his agents, and DiNozzo was clearly not to be trusted if he couldn't follow orders any more.

He stormed into the Director's office, bypassing the convention of pausing at Cynthia's desk to wait for the invitation to enter. He never bothered with the niceties when Tom Morrow was director, and no damned way did he ever follow protocol when his former junior agent became the director and he sure as Hell wouldn't start now with a new director.

As he entered the Director's office, Leon Vance pointed at a seat and ordered, "Sit down, Gibbs." He seemed unsurprised when Gibbs just ignored him and started stalking round the room.

"Where the Hell is my team, Leon?"

Vance looked at Gibbs who had bloodshot eyes and was clearly suffering from the effects of a night with the bottle. He knew that the death of Lee had shaken Gibbs and he resolved to schedule a psych evaluation ASAP. Firing DiNozzo was a clear indication that Gibbs was losing it. He reached down and opened a desk drawer, removing a classified file and tossing it onto the table.

"You were way out of line with DiNozzo. You've worked enough Special Ops with the Marines and this agency to know the score. When he said those magic words, 'need to know', you should have backed off, but in typical bastard with two B's fashion, you pushed him to disobey the direct orders of Sec Nav and myself and put unbelievable pressure on him with tragic consequences. Here, read the file. I sure hope it was worth it. Next time, Gibbs, be a man and come and ask me, instead of putting a subordinate in an invidious position."

Jethro sank into the chair, his gut roiling and doing back flips now. He picked up the file and started reading it, his face anguished as he absorbed the content of what was contained within. He became more and more still, what Tony always described as his '_watchful sniper mode as he waited to make his kill_' as he continued to read the classified document in its entirety. When finally he finished reading and closed it, the Director decided to give him all the information.

"DiNozzo wanted to tell you, begged us for permission to tell you, but Sec Nav and I decided not to grant his request, and when he threatened to tell you anyway, he was informed that if he did so it would result in his permanent deployment as an Agent Afloat. As I said, Gibbs, an impossible situation. And the second thing is that Ziva came to see me yesterday after you fired DiNozzo and confessed that he's been covering up for her. He was injured because she was arguing with him after he gave her a direct order because she felt that he wasn't qualified to be her superior, and as they technically weren't on your team anymore, she didn't have to obey him.

"Not sure what justification she used to rationalize her behaviour during the break-in attempt with Domino, though. Anyway, the target spotted her arguing and refusing to follow DiNozzo's direct order and shot at her. Fortunately, Tony saw him aim his gun and pushed her out of the way, taking the bullet meant for Ziva. He still managed to double tap the target and neutralise him, but the bullet pushed him over the edge of the roof where they were stationed, which resulted in his skull fracture and other sundry injuries."

Gibbs looked shocked and sickened, although Vance wasn't wasting any sympathy on the team leader. "You wanted to know where your team is, Gibbs. They are all holding vigil at Agent DiNozzo's bedside and have been there since yesterday when he stepped into the path of a speeding car. He is currently in a coma, complicated by his recent fractured skull and the concussion he received a few days ago. According to Dr. Mallard, he stopped by to say goodbye after you fired him and was extremely agitated and angry. He believes that DiNozzo was not focused on his surroundings and didn't hear the car approaching." He left unspoken the reason why Tony was so distracted, although he was sure that Gibbs could make the connection.

Gibbs let out a low moan. "Is DiNozzo going to be okay?"

"According to Ducky, the seriousness of three head injuries so close together is grave, but they won't say more unless…until he regains consciousness."

Jethro swallowed, feeling as if his heart would burst. "Does the rest of the team know about the Op, Leon?"

The Director shook his head, "apart from Ziva, of course, and Dr. Mallard knows the details of how he became injured, but no details of the mission itself. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about Officer David and her admitted insubordination, especially in light of the refusal to follow DiNozzo's order and yours to stand down and not engage the Marine guards. Again, it resulted in Tony sustaining an injury, and that speaks to me of entrenched issues with David being able to observe the chain of command." He reached into the desk and withdrew a toothpick, shoving it into his mouth. He thought carefully before continuing.

"Effective immediately, I am placing the MCRT on extended leave. I want you to report ASAP for a psychological evaluation." He held up his hand to forestall any objections. "You have lost a former partner with Director Shepard's death, and lost Special Agent Langer and killed Special Agent Lee. Your behaviour over the past day has been erratic and ill-advised, and I want to be certain that you are capable of doing your job. I also want you to submit to ongoing counseling, contingent on passing your Psych Eval, and I will be making a decision as to when the team will return to case work again."

He stared at Gibbs seriously and said, "I will send you personnel files and you may want to prepare to find a replacement for David as well as DiNozzo, pending my decision on any disciplinary actions I deem to be appropriate."

The team leader leaped to his feet. "No way, Leon. I know I was an idiot to DiNozzo, but I'll… apol…ogise," he choked over the word, "and he'll forgive me. He always does. He's the most forgiving guy I know and he takes crap from us all and still forgives us."

"Well, I really hope that he recovers and you get the opportunity to apologise to him. He deserves it, but even if he forgives you, you fired him and now he is no longer on the team. I'm not sure if it would be in his best interest to return to the MCRT. I gather that DiNozzo was not happy that you kept him in the dark about Michelle Lee. Given he sustained yet another injury, I can't really blame him, I suppose. Then add the fact that we've pushed him into missions that he has not been able to share with you and the team, and he has grown weary of the secrecy. I did warn you about the consequences to the team in keeping them in the dark about Agent Lee, and given your behavior when you discovered he had taken part in a special ops assignment, it has given me great concern."

He spat out the soggy toothpick and glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm concerned that your real motivation for not reading him in on the Domino situation was because you wanted to punish him for not revealing he was undercover on the La Grenouille case, although I hesitate to call it a case, since it was Jenny's folly. Scuttlebutt around the water cooler is that the whole team made his life a misery after you found out about his undercover mission. If that's true, it explains why you went postal when he refused to tell you what he'd been working on. It's time that someone started looking out for that young man, and I'm feeling guilty that I forced him to stay silent about this Op. So, now, I'm going to put him first and watch his six. It's not a given that you will get him back."

Gibbs wanted to reach over the desk and throttle the Director, but contained himself… just barely. He really didn't want to think about the charges Vance had leveled at him and he was keen to get to the hospital and see Tony, but he had to know.

"Why didn't you tell me, Leon? Why send Tony and Ziva to clean up Jenny and my mess?"

"Because, Gibbs, we needed your expertise here to track down the mole. And because when you are emotionally involved, your judgment is questionable, especially if it concerns someone that you love. The situation with your wife and child and the Mexican drug lord and the Maddie Tylor situation are cases in point. People get hurt when you go off half cocked without thinking of the consequences." He saw Gibbs' shock at the mention of Hernandez and he explained. "Special Agent Macy and I go back a ways; we were partners for a while."

Gibbs pulled himself to his feet, his dehydration, headache and queasiness now battling with the burden of guilt he was staggering under. He couldn't believe that Jenny's failure to neutralize Svetlana Cheniskiya nine years ago in Paris could extract such a huge cost on everyone. He damn well should have verified Jenny's kill after he took out her lover, Anatoly Zukov. Since Jen's death and the revelation that she hadn't been able to carry out the sanctioned hit on Cheniskiya, he'd wracked his brain trying to figure out what she was thinking, not understanding how she could leave a loose end like that and not tell him.

Svetlana must have told Jen she was pregnant, seeing she had a daughter, Tatiana, who was eight and a half years old, making her pregnant when Jen had gone to kill her. That or Cheniskiya told her about her son, Ivan, who would have been 14 back in Paris. Perhaps, she begged Jen to spare her because she was a mother and her children needed her. It seemed that the apple didn't fall far from the tree, though, as Ivan had grown up to become a paid killer for hire, just like his father. He had links to the Russian Mafia, and like his mother, a passionate desire for vengeance in his heart.

Ivan had started making serious enquiries about Mr. Oshimida almost immediately after Mike Franks had shot Svetlana, which suggested that she'd been checking in with him regularly. With his mother dead he'd become even more dangerous, and the decision had been made to neutralize him before he could come seeking retribution. The powers that be had been desperate to prevent the FUBAR method of Shepard's death and its antecedents, and the failure by Jen to carry out a sanctioned hit, quiet at all costs.

Since there were only a handful of people who knew the truth, Sec Nav had decided that DiNozzo and Ziva could track Ivan Zukov down and tie up the loose end permanently. They'd chased him all the way across Eastern Europe before finally cornering him in Albania, and although Ziva as a trained Kidon assassin was going to take the kill shot, her insubordination meant that Zukov spotted her and but for the grace of Tony taking the bullet meant for her, she would be dead.

Gibbs' gut clenched, thinking about DiNozzo lying in some hospital in Albania with a fractured skull, broken ankle and a myriad of other minor injuries and he hadn't been there; which reminded him that his Senior Field Agent was once again fighting for his life at Bethesda and he'd been off getting drunk and feeling sorry for himself.

Agent Anthony Afloat

He stepped out of the elevator and raced into the ICU waiting room to find his agents and the de facto forensic scientists who had attached themselves to his team, huddled together offering comfort through touch and closeness. The mood amongst the team was one of quiet desperation, and when they looked up when he walked into the room, there wasn't the relief that would be normally expressed at his appearance. Rather the expressions ranged from fury to apathy and even contempt, although he'd never expected Ducky's autopsy gremlin to have the cojones to be openly disapproving of him. He might admire the kid's balls, but it hurt to be treated as a pariah by his entire team, and really the rest of NCIS, too, as he realized just why he'd been so paranoid when he came in today.

Everyone had been talking about him, not to mention the dirty looks, and even Rick Balboa, who he'd been friends with for 15 years, had given him the cold shoulder. But when all was said and done, that really didn't matter. What mattered was that Tony was lying in ICU in a coma.

He looked at the furious Dr. Mallard and asked, "How is he, Ducky?"

His tone positively arctic, Ducky scowled. "Anthony has swelling in the brain due to a bleed and they are attempting to contain the edema with medication at this stage. He has a fractured wrist, dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs and a tear in his liver, which again they are monitoring to determine if a surgical intervention is necessary. He is in a deep coma at the moment, and before you ask, the doctors do not know when he will wake up, although they remain hopeful."

The rest of the team listened in stony silence. Abby, who would normally have come running into his arms, remained glued to the comforting embrace of McGee. She was looking at him like he'd killed her puppy, and knowing how she felt about DiNozzo, it wasn't so far from the truth. Having gotten him back after four months off the team, she was fiercely protective of him. So, he understood her anger at him, but damn, he could really do with one of her bone-crushing hugs right now.

Gibbs cleared his throat and asked calmly, "Can I see him, Ducky?" Seeing the expression on the ME's face, he hastened to add, "I know I should have listened to you and Ziva. The Director read me in and I'm going to make things right between us."

Before anyone else could reply, Abby piped up, "You can't always make things right, Bossman. Some things just can't be fixed."

"I refuse to believe that, Abby. Everything will be fine. Where's that positive attitude?"

"It died, Gibbs, when Tony got sent to sea and I realized that you couldn't stop Vance hurting him."

Gibbs winced. Abby had always put him up on a pedestal six feet high. It was inevitable that one day he would come crashing back to earth, but damn, it had hurt that he could do nothing to stop his team being split up. He'd always been able to ride roughshod over the various directors who had come and gone, and it had been a shock of seismic proportions to discover that Leon was impervious to his usual tactics.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Three weeks later, Gibbs sat at his desk in the deserted bull pen contemplating the MCRT. McGee and Georgiou had already left for the night, as they weren't working on an active case at the moment. Gibbs had finally been cleared for active duty, on the proviso he continued to actively participate in weekly counseling sessions, damn Vance's eyes! So, they were back on rotation as of today, and it seemed strange to have Rick Balboa's junior agent on his team. Vance had decided that Ziva would swap places with Ray Georgiou for a minimum of three months so that Balboa could pound chain of command issues into the stubborn and impulsive Israeli liaison officer's thick skull - Vance's words, not his - and had made it plain to both Officer David and Gibbs that he wouldn't tolerate any further lapses. He also warned Gibbs that as her team leader, he needed to shoulder some of the responsibility, too.

DiNozzo had finally woken up two days ago after almost three weeks in a coma and surgery to relieve pressure on his brain, which had become dangerously swollen. It was a huge relief when he'd eventually regained consciousness, and while his speech was slightly slurred and some of his reflexes a little sluggish, the neurologists were confident he would make a full recovery. As soon as word came through that Tony was regaining consciousness, Gibbs had lit out of NCIS and driven like a maniac to Bethesda to be there when DiNozzo woke up.

Gibbs was going to have to break one of his unbreakable rules and apologise, and it would just about kill him, so he wanted to get done with it ASAP or he might not be able to go through with it. The problem was that Tony didn't remember the events prior to getting struck by the car, but Gibbs explained what had happened and how he'd been a real butt head and how Ducky had said that he was extremely angry and agitated. Then came the hard bit; the apology.

DiNozzo listened politely and then thanked him, graciously accepting his apology and smiled that super fake and polite smile which never reached his eyes, which were still dulled by medication. Soon after that he'd apologized, saying he needed to sleep again. The last two days had seen him more alert for longer intervals of time and the slurring was diminishing and the reflexes gradually sharpening just as the doctors had promised. Yet something was off with his Senior Field Agent.

DiNozzo was friendly and welcomed the team, including Gibbs when he showed up, and seemed happy to have company, but there was no joking around; although he smiled a lot, but it wasn't the real deal. He was also uncharacteristically quiet and basically spoke only when spoken to. Most frustrating of all was that he was so god-damned polite, Gibbs wanted to head slap him. He wondered if it was because of his head injury or the surgery, or perhaps he didn't make it clear that he wasn't angry with Tony and did trust him and wanted to repair their relationship.

So, today he'd spoken to the doctors, who seemed to think that it wasn't due to any injury to the brain. They said that all his cognitive functioning tests were coming back as being normal, although, of course, the quacks had hedged their bets and said that nothing was absolutely certain. They did hint that it might be due to the trauma from the accident.

It was weird; Tony was unfailing polite and pleasant, the perfect host whenever anyone visited him, but distant, too, like they were strangers. He realized suddenly that DiNozzo hadn't called him 'Boss' since he'd regained consciousness and it hit him. He was withdrawing from them all, putting emotional distance between them and he was getting ready to cut and run. Well, he'd be damned if he'd let him go.

"I know what yur up to, DiNozzo. Getting ready to run out on us, and I'm not gonna let you."

"No, Gibbs, I'm not running out on anyone, I am just moving on and you have no say in the matter. You're not my boss and I can do as I please." Tony spoke calmly and reasonably.

"DiNozzo, you said you forgave me for being an ass and firing you. Were you lying, because I thought we were all good? I thought we agreed I was angry and upset and a bastard, but I didn't mean what I said, so, why can't we just forget about it and go back to normal? Tell me what you need me to do and it'll get done." Gibbs tried to keep his anger out of his voice.

"No, Gibbs...wasn't lying. I forgive you and understand you were angry, but it doesn't mean that you didn't mean what you said. You don't trust me because of The Frog, and frankly, I don't trust you anymore either after you kept us out of the loop, and not for the first time. So, I think that it's better to part this way, as friends." DiNozzo spoke in a measured, slightly melancholy manner and Gibbs wanted to yell or throttle the man.

"Why won't you at least try and repair our relationship, for the good of the team. We had trust before; we can do it if you're willing to try. I don't understand."

"Gibbs, once your wife cheated on you, were you ever able to trust her again? I know you, Gibbs. You don't trust me and even though you say you want to move on, it's not your strong suit. You need someone watching your back that you can trust. Look, you did me a favour by firing me because I would never have been able to leave the team. Hell, I couldn't go when you were all treating me like crap and trying to push me out. Even then, I still couldn't accept a great new job as team leader in Rota. Jen told me I might regret turning it down, and she was right. If I had left then, I'd never had ended up breaking Jeanne's heart and I wouldn't have to hate myself for that."

"I never knew about Rota, Tony, but if you'd accepted it, I wouldn't be alive now nor would Maddie Tylor."

"Maybe, Gibbs, maybe not. Super ninja Ziva or McGee would have figured it out. Director Vance has McGee marked down for greatness."

"DiNozzo, you always underestimate yourself. I don't think that anyone else could have done what you did that day. It was like something out of one of your damned movies."

"Just doing my job, Gibbs," he said dismissively

Gibbs had to wonder uncomfortably if Tony had heard his comment to Jenny when she'd urged him to talk to DiNozzo about what he'd done that day on the pier. She'd marched into the ER, fuming and after making sure he was okay, proceeded to ream him out for not following procedure, trashing an agency car and endangering a civilian. Of course, just like the previous time she'd urged him to talk to Tony and thank him for that he'd done while leading the team, Gibbs had completely ignored her. After all, no one got to tell him what to do, especially Jenny.

Now, looking at what he had done with the benefit of a little hindsight, Gibbs could appreciate that Tony should have received some sort of public acknowledgement for his courage and disregard of personal safety. He really had to wonder why the hell DiNozzo didn't receive the Meritorious Civilian Service Medal this year, because he sure deserved it more than Gibbs did. How had they even been able to justify awarding it to him when he broke protocol and almost killed a civilian? Hell he** had killed** Kelly's best friend, it was Tony who had resuscitated her after dragging her out of the submerged car. He couldn't fathom bureaucrats at the best of times, but he was downright embarrassed this time when he heard it had been awarded to him for the seventh time. Stupid idiots!

"Can't you give us one last chance, DiNozzo?"

Tony sighed very quietly. "Gibbs, I am not indispensable. I am not L.J. Gibbs, and I can be replaced. McGee will fill my place and you have Ziva. It hasn't been working for us for a long time anyway. It's best for both of us to start fresh."

Gibbs could hear the finality and the flatness in Tony's voice and was desolate. "What are your plans, DiNozzo?"

"I finally accepted Tobias' offer. They are willing to offer me a supervisory role within the next 12 months, and I think I need a new challenge."

"You really think you can trust those guys to watch your six, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked incredulously, since Tony had always shared his disdain for the Fibbies.

"Nope. I finally figured out, Gibbs, what I learnt from my Father as a kid was true. You can't depend on anyone else but yourself because people will always let you down in the end. I'll look after my own six from here on in. It's safer that way," he concluded, sounding both sad and defeated.

"So, DiNozzo, why not stay here if you don't trust the Fibbies. You can watch your own six here just as well and you'll still be with your family."

"Not my family, Gibbs. I have no family and it's time for me to stop pretending otherwise. Not a wide-eyed little boy anymore or even a young eager rookie. I know better. Why not stay? Well, it's easier to start fresh somewhere new where I don't know people and there aren't constant reminders of my naiveté and self delusion. Where right from day one, I know that my colleagues are just that and I don't have a lot of baggage and regrets. Baggage can get you killed when you blindly trust a partner or your boss." The last sentence was said so low that Gibbs had to strain hard to hear him and his heart almost burst knowing there was no malice or anger behind the words, simply conviction and sadness.

Abby was right apparently. "_You can't always make things right, Bossman. Some things just can't be fixed._"

He'd always bullied and demanded and got what he wanted at NCIS ever since he became the team leader of the premier Major Case Response Team, until Leon Vance had pulled the rug out from under him and decimated his team. Yet, it seemed that he hadn't really needed Leon to do that. He'd destroyed his team a long time before that and never even realized it, and now it was too late to fix that which was broken. Maybe it was time to put in for early retirement.


	6. Chapter 6

Rating: K

Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me but I do borrow the characters from time to time and let them play with mine. Unfortunately I make no money from this obsession.

Series Summary: When the new Director Leon Vance states to Gibbs at the end of the season six episode Agent Afloat that Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's deployment as Agent Afloat wasn't a punishment following Jenny Shepard's death, I have to admit that I didn't believe him. I kept waiting for the writers to reveal what was behind the deployment if it wasn't meant as a punishment but like many other issues, it was never addressed again. Even though I believe that his action was punitive, I began to wonder what other possible explanations could there be to explain why Vance sent Tony away like that and I began to come up with several scenarios which are the result of my fertile imagination. I have to say that they are obviously AU and also more than a little tongue-in- cheek but I hope you'll enjoy reading them. Each one is a stand alone story and I also chose to experiment somewhat with writing styles. Let me know what you think :)

Thanks to everyone who left reviews or alerted/faved the series. This scenario is one that my Beta for this series Arress came up with and it was always an area which I felt should have been used in the show so I ran with it. I have to issue a warning here. As I was writing this, the possibility of a prequel and sequel to this piece became apparent and so there are a few oblique references that are deliberately vague. The second half of the epilogue ends in a cliffhanger. Consider it a preview and if you don't like being left hanging, you might want to skip the last bit that comes after the words six months later.

Once again, thanks to Arress for the beta and for the idea and suggestions.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Bait and Switch

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sifted through the meager contents of his refrigerator. There wasn't a lot to be disposed of because following the disastrous trip to California and the fallout from Director Shepard's death, he hadn't been home enough to eat anything let alone go grocery shopping. A half a dozen eggs, some spoilt milk, some rubbery looking carrots and some tomatoes that were sporting facial hair were the rather sad sum total of the contents of his fridge. He was trying to decide whether to give the eggs to his elderly neighbor across the way or use them to make an omelet for dinner, and opted for plan A since he had nothing to put in an omelet. As he put the eggs on the kitchen counter, he heard a heavy pounding on the door.

Wiping his hands on a dishtowel he opened the door expecting to find Gibbs on the other side of the door from the impatient pounding, although he had a key to Tony's apartment. So it was a shock to find the three individuals who were standing there together. Raising an eyebrow, he quipped bitterly.

"So gentlemen, you here to arrest me for murder again? Who has framed me this time?"

FBI Special Agent Tobias Fornell smirked, while his partner Ron Sacks scowled and the new director of NCIS regarded him distastefully.

"We must speak to you as a matter of urgency, Special Agent DiNozzo," he stated, somehow making his name sound like crap that was on the bottom of his expensive shoes. "May we come in?"

Making the request sound like anything but, and he pushed past Tony before he could refuse. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking out Tony's apartment and appeared shocked by the neatness and elegance. Tony felt his temper rise, surely if Vance had the slightest perceptive bone in his body, he would observe that Tony had an innate sense of style and was meticulous with his personal grooming and wardrobe, was it such a stretch to expect that he might be just as fussy about his personal space as well?

Director Vance obviously decided to cut through the social niceties, and for that Tony was extremely grateful. There was no love lost between them and he wasn't thrilled at having him and the Fibbies in his inner sanctum, especially that sanctimonious bastard Slacks.

"There has been a change to your orders, Special Agent DiNozzo." But before Tony could dare to hope that Gibbs had managed to perform a miracle and get him out of the dreaded Agent Afloat deployment, Vance continued. "You are now under protective custody until further notice. Furthermore, this is need to know and I am giving you direct orders not to divulge this information to anyone at NCIS. As far as everyone is concerned, you are Agent Afloat aboard the USS Ronald Reagan. Do I make myself clear?"

"Not so much, Director. Why am I in protective custody? And why do I not have a say about whether I even want protection? I can look after myself."

Tony was starting to feel pissed off, not just with the FBI turning up on his doorstep, but with Vance for banishing him for following orders. Did he really think that punishing him by sending him off to sea was going to make him feel any worse than he already did over Jenny's death? At one time he considered her to be a friend before she had put her own personal agenda before the good of the agency, and left his six hanging in the wind without any backup. Now, he was expected to suck it up like a gormless chump, and he'd already his fill with Jenny and being kept in the dark. He was damned if he would take it from Vance.

Fornell leapt into the breech before Tony and Vance could step it up. The animosity between the pair was palpable.

"Mike Macaluso bribed two prison guards and escaped from prison yesterday,Tony. His son, Luca, was killed in a suspicious MVA a few days ago, and after he deals with his family matters we are expecting him to make good on his threats to you. You know, of course, that his eldest son, Marco, was killed in a prison fight last year and that Luca was being anointed to take over when he finished college? Mike blames you for Marco's death, no surprise there and, of course, there's the minor matter of the collapse of his empire and sending him to jail. You and I both know his promise to kill you isn't an empty threat. It's personal because you managed to earn his trust and get so close to his family. He's waited a long time, but as you know, the Family never forgets."

"Thanks, Fornell, but if you are worried about my ass, wouldn't it make sense to be on the Reagan out in the middle of the Atlantic? Oh wait, we all know that's not what this is about. If Mike can't get to me himself and watch me draw my last breath, he's going to go to ground, maybe pick up the reins of the family business again, and wouldn't that be embarrassing to our politicians? So, that would make me the bait. Let's all call a spade a spade, gentlemen."

Vance scowled. "DiNozzo, you have your orders. It has been decided that the apprehension of this criminal is paramount and Sec Nav has approved your temporary secondment to the FBI until he has been apprehended. You are not to have contact with any of your former team mates. They are all going to be involved in a matter of national security and I don't want them distracted by your situation. It could be quite dangerous for any of them to lose focus if they were aware of your circumstances. I understand, however, that you may need to maintain electronic contact with them, particularly Ms. Scuito, but you must ensure that no hint of this operation is divulged. Are we clear?"

"Oh, yeah, Director Vance. Waterford clear." Tony read the subtext from the new director. _You aren't a valuable enough asset to permit the MCRT to watch your six or to help in the National Security investigation, so you are being hung out to dry. Bet you won't be throwing yourself on my coffin if this op goes belly up either._

Agent Anthony Afloat

It had been three days since Tony had been ordered into the protective custody of the FBI and he was climbing the walls, and making sure that he drove his protection detail crazy, too. The way he figured it, distraction was his only form of entertainment, and it would keep him from missing his team so much, but also it would distract the Fibbies from what he was up to and make it easier to act if he needed to. He may not have Gibbs' awesome gut, but he had a fair bit of faith in his own intuition and it was telling him that there was something hinky going on and not to trust the agents or what they had told him.

He pissed them off with demands to read the reports of the investigation into Macaluso's breakout, and all the reports of the search for him now that he was free. The Philadelphia PD was on high alert and following up any suspected lead no matter how tenuous, but so far they had no confirmed sightings. Tony knew that Macaluso was a tough customer and wouldn't go back without a fight, and he figured that the FBI knew it and was counting on his elephant like memory and oath for vengeance against Tony would prove to be his Achilles' heel that would ultimately trip him up. So, it made no sense to hide him away in a safe house, and Tony felt like he was being treated like a mushroom by all concerned…kept in the dark and fed a whole lotta crap.

Tony had prodded, pushed, interrogated and insulted Fornell about being the cheese in the proverbial mouse trap, but Fornell was insistent that that wasn't the case. Tony was almost certain that he wasn't lying to him, but every time he started in on him, Slacks would start to squirm. Nothing overt, but to someone like Tony who was so observant about overt nonverbal body cues, which had saved his skin when working undercover countless times, it was still disturbing. He just wasn't sure if it was because Very Ordinary Agent Slacks thought that it wasn't worth protecting a murderer –he'd made it plain that he still believed that Tony had killed Rene Benoit- or because he'd pushed for Tony to be the goat staked to a tether. What was clear was that Fornell had overruled the junior agent and he wasn't a happy camper.

Tony wasn't happy either and he was paying attention to the protection team and their routine so he could give them slip as soon as possible. He wasn't going to let them put him under glass like some damned hot house orchid because if anyone had a chance of finding Macaluso it was him, and he was going to go on the attack instead of sitting around passively waiting for something to break. Gibbs always said that he did his best work solo, and although in this particular situation he'd rather have the team watching his six, that simply wasn't going to happen.

Still, after working for 18 months in Philly, he had a pretty impressive network of assets he could use, not to mention entre into the Macaluso clan. All he needed was to visit the bank and retrieve his emergency documents and cash from the safe deposit box, and then he'd disappear and resurface in Philly. It had been a while since he'd had a soft pretzel or a cheesesteak, and while Fornell would be pissed when he ditched them, he'd get over it…maybe!

Not only did he feel safer watching his own six, he'd be damned if he was going to endanger other agents' lives if he could help it. Then there was the fact that the Macaluso's had fingers in way too many pies. That included the FBI, he had no doubt.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Tony pressed down on the hemorrhaging gun shot wound with a towel, trying to staunch the blood loss from Fornell's thigh, concerned that the bullet had hit an artery due to the volume. He'd waited too long to try and slip away; he should have gone yesterday. Macaluso had sent four goons who were all dead, but so was one of the FBI protection detail, as well as Tobias getting shot. Tony had shot Fornell's shooter, so the shot that had been intended to sever Tobias' aorta had gone wide and lodged in his leg instead. Tony was glad he'd resisted the Fibbie's attempt to separate him from his service piece, although now it was going to be seized as evidence, but he also had his back-up piece as well. Luckily, he had numerous back up, well backups, secreted around DC, and he would retrieve a few when he picked up his cash and new identity documents. It was more imperative than ever that he go on the offensive, and he would slip out when the EMTs and crime scene guys arrived.

'Very Ordinary Slacks' or VOS would be preoccupied and it was the perfect time to give him the slip. In fact, said agent appeared to be in shock. He was apologising to Fornell, mumbling that this wasn't supposed to happen. Although Tobias was in pain and looking shocky, he was still well and truly aware and obviously wanting to say something for Tony's ears only. Tony ordered Sacks to get some blankets and the first aid kit while he maintained strong pressure on Fornell's wound.

"It seems as if we've both been betrayed, DiNotzo. I refused to let you be set up as the sacrificial lamb for the slaughter, but it looks as if Sacks has conspired against me and set it up anyway. I'm going kill him when I get this damn bullet outta my leg! I had no idea; I'm sorry. Ya need to get out of here and take off for a while, go to ground like only you can do. I'm going to be off the grid for a few days, but contact me later in the week and we'll make plans."

Tony was touched. He didn't expect Fornell to apologise, especially since his contemporary believed it was sign of weakness, although it sure felt like balm to his soul, but he could read the cynicism and pain on Toby's face even if he didn't know him well. It was the same emotion he'd experienced when he found out Jenny had exploited him with Jeanne and Rene Benoit with no regard to his physical or emotional welfare. He appreciated Tobias' advice and he wasn't going to disavow him of the notion that he was going to ground.

Maculuso was too smart for the FBI. They'd been after him for years before Tony had managed to worm his way into the organisation, and then later into his family, and if anyone could get to him again, it was the former undercover cop. But he wasn't going to worry Fornell when he had to face surgery; it wasn't as if he could do anything anyway. Tony would call him later in the week to make sure he was okay.

"Yeah, was thinking the same thing, Fornell. It's about to get real busy soon and that'll give me good cover to give 'Very Ordinary Slacks' the slip." Tony grinned at the thought of getting one up on the FBI agent. He was going to be so majorly pissed off.

Tobias' junior partner joined them with blankets and the first aid kit and Tony directed him to elevate Fornell's leg while he continued to maintain pressure on the wound, and then ordered VOS to wrap Tobias in several blankets to keep him warm and prevent him slipping further into shock.

Ron Sacks looked shattered and Tobias took the opportunity to exploit his anguish, and at the same time distract himself from the fact his leg felt like it was about to fall off.

"So, Sacks, ya went and leaked our location, didn't ya? Who authorised it, so I can tell Jones' wife and kids who's responsible for his death? Hell, Emily came this close to being fatherless, too, except for DiNotso here. Who was the bastard you went over my head to?"

"C'mon, Fornell, I was following Associate Director Caldwell's orders. I never thought this was gonna happen."

"Maybe not, Ron, but you were damned gung-ho with wanting to use Special Agent DiNotso as bait without reading him in. Well known you don't like him and still believe he killed Rene Benoit, so you weren't exactly fussed about watching his six. Should never have let ya in on the op…"

While he hadn't finished reaming out his agent, the EMTs had arrived and were assessing Fornell's condition and stabilising him for transport to hospital. They swiftly applied a pressure bandage to stop him from bleeding out and Tony collapsed, exhausted from the combination of his effort of keeping pressure on the wound and the bleeding off of adrenaline following the fire fight. He tried to ignore Special Agent Bernie Jones lying a few feet away with the back of his head blown away, although he couldn't help but feel responsible for the guy's death.

Damn Caldwell and Sacks. He would have agreed to be the bait in their trap if they'd just asked him, and he could have helped figure out a better trap. Hell, he had a better trap damn it, but they weren't going to be read in on it now. Were they that stupid that they thought Macaluso would risk coming for him personally when he had a bunch of thugs that could grab him and take him to Macaluso? The sooner he got away from these keystone cops the better.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Tony strapped on his helmet and mounted the Kawasaki 750 motorcycle he had paid cash for at a nondescript second-hand dealer. He'd chosen the bike over a car because it was far more mobile and could be used to for a quick get away, and was handy for preventing anyone tailing him effectively. It would also be much more likely for anyone looking for him to be searching for a car, simply because no one knew he rode a motorcycle. It was another skill he preferred to keep under wraps because the less data that was on record, the harder it was for people to find him when he was hiding out.

He had made a couple of phone calls and had booked into two up-market hotels to confuse anyone who might be looking for him. He'd reserved suites in the Sheraton Philadelphia Downtown Hotel and the Crowne Plaza, booking in under his assumed identity, and was now waiting for his ex-partner, Jessie Lawless, to meet him. She was flying in from out of town, so he knew that it would be a while. He decided to order a cheesesteak and coffee because it had been a long time since he'd indulged in an authentic Philadelphia cheesesteak. Perhaps it was the ambiance of the city, but they never tasted as good anywhere else.

Although he'd had to leave Philly in a hurry after the crapola hit the fan ten years ago, he'd come up with a plan days before leaving with help from his ex-partner. He'd only worked with Jessie for six months when he'd first come to Philly before he'd joined the taskforce trying to bring down the Macaluso Family and then gone undercover, yet he and she had been tight from the get-go and she'd been there for him when he needed her badly at the end.

Jessie had left Philly ten months after he'd been forced to flee, and she'd ended up at Boston PD, but she'd made him promise to call if he ever needed her to carry out the sting they'd conceived. It was in those last few dreadful days before he'd packed up and transferred to Baltimore to escape the Macaluso clan that the pair had hatched their contingency plan, and hoped it would never be needed. Tony had set it all up from Baltimore, and sent her the false ID and enough cash so that when the time came she would be able to act.

Once Tony had managed to worm his way into the Macaluso household and become accepted as a part of the family, he was privy to all sorts of highly personal information that no one else knew, and that was probably why Mike took his duping so personally and vowed that he'd kill Tony if he ever got out of prison. While it was common knowledge that Macaluso had an extensive collection of classic Italian cars, many of them sports cars which included Lamborghinis and Ferraris, some of them worth a king's ransom, Tony was privy to the car that was his pride and joy. When Philly PD finally arrested Macaluso and many of his associates, the FBI had stepped in to seize his assets, which included the classic car collection, and it was summarily auctioned off to the highest bidders. Some buyers were serious classic car aficionados, while others simply thought it would be cool to own a car that had belonged to a powerful Mafia Don.

Some of the classics were customised jobs or rare models, but Tony knew that there was one particular car that meant the world to the powerful and ruthless Don. Contrary to what might be expected from such a major crime figure, he also had a seam of sappy sentimentality coursing through him, because it wasn't the priceless classic Lamborghini that was in pristine condition with less than 1000 miles on the odometer that was his favourite. Tony vividly remembered the first time that Mike had taken him out to his cavernous barn where he housed his prized collection and turned him loose to wander around and look. For someone who had always appreciated classic cars it had been a heady experience, and he'd required no acting ability to admire the Don's stunning collection.

It was then that the head of the most powerful mafia family in Philadelphia decided to share an intimate family secret with the undercover cop. Macaluso led him over to the modest red and black Alfa Romeo 1959 Giulietta Sprint, which was a car that Tony thought was pretty damn cool, but compared to the other cars in Macaluso's possession, it was a rather modest offering. Mike had told him with a catch in his voice how he had courted his future wife, Arianna, in that car and had driven her to a romantic spot after dinner to propose to her. Having lost her in the turf wars with the Carletti Family, the car was even more special to him because of the precious and irreplaceable memories associated with it. Although Tony had dutifully documented this fact along with hundreds of other intimate details he had gleaned about Mike and his extended family, he was not surprised that no one saw the importance of that single piece of information, but when he heard they planned to sell the entire collection, he had known right away.

Tony had hoped that Macaluso and his goons would stay in prison for a very long time, but he was a cynic and he knew that he needed something pretty darned good if he ever needed to hunt and trap Mike. Thus, the contingency plan was borne and Jessie volunteered to purchase the Giulietta Sprint when it came up for auction with the false identity that Tony had obtained for her and money from his modest trust fund his mother left him. Since then, the car had been in storage under the loving care of a trusted colleague with a passion that rivalled Tony's own for classic vehicles. All that they needed to proceed with the trap was to have the Alfa Romeo serviced, detailed and waxed, and Jessie would organise those little details when she arrived, and then grease a few palms and drop a few hints. It was simply a matter of knowing whose ear you needed to whisper into to get to the man, and Tony definitely knew the right ears.

Agent Anthony Afloat

Tony saw Jessie when she entered the bar, and so did every other red-blooded male in the place. She was 5 foot 11 and had the physique of an athlete even after ten years, which was how long it had been since he'd seen her before leaving for Baltimore. They used to play plenty of one on one back in the day when they were partners, and she'd been pretty good at landing them. Perhaps not in his league, but then few cops ever were. Still, they had good times and she'd been a hell of a partner watching his back and being there when everything had gone pear shaped. Her willingness to help him now spoke volumes about her character, and Tony felt honoured to count her amongst his friends. She crossed the room and planted an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek before sinking down next to him and picking up his glass and sipping from it.

After spending a few minutes catching up after so many years apart, Tony began reading Jessie in on what had been going on with Macaluso's escape and the laughable attempts by the FBI to use Tony as the bait in their trap.

She snorted inelegantly. "I know you are a Fed now T, but Geez Louise, could they get any more stupid or ridiculous? I don't think so."

"No offense taken, Detective Sergeant Lawless," he chuckled. "The Fibbies weren't exactly standing at the front of the queue when they were handing out brains, you know. VOS is an excellent example of that. Seriously, Jess, at this point, Fornell is about the only Fibbie that I trust. Just wait, when we have Mike all trussed up like a turkey and safely caught, they'll swan in and take all the credit. It's really the only thing they excel at!"

"Sure as God made little green apples, T. About as dependable as death and taxes when it comes to stealing other peoples' thunder, but then what can you do, Tony? The bastards know you are keeping a long profile when it comes to Mike Macaluso, although they don't know why, do they?"

"No, Jess, apart from two individuals very high up the food chain. The less people that know, the safer it is. They think it is because my boss is a jerk and doesn't want me ruining a super secret mission he's directing," Tony sighed.

"Do you ever hear from them, T?"

"Only indirectly, Jess. Sometimes once, occasionally twice a year, someone sends me a post card." He tried to prevent his body language revealing how much he was hurting because it was important to keep their secret. After all he'd had years of practice, yet when he thought about them, it was like yesterday when they'd all had to leave.

Agent Anthony Afloat

It had taken almost another week to set up the sting properly. They'd listed the car on EBay, had it serviced so it was running like a dream and had it professionally detailed and waxed and it looked like a million dollars. A judiciously dropped hint around certain known associates of Macaluso's and a couple of quarter page ads in the dailies, and they were ready to start the play. Tony had purchased a few burn phones and they started getting a promising nibble from Mike almost immediately.

So, they played him like a violin. Lots of pertinent questions about the car and offers to purchase the car immediately for a good price were forthcoming and Jessie politely refusing, explaining she needed to maximise her profits because she was only selling her 'baby' because she needed an urgent operation. First rule of a con is to not make it seem too easy, or they might spook him.

Tony set up some dummy EBay accounts and started pushing up the bids on the Giulietta Sprint and keep Macaluso anxious about getting his car back again. He was also fanning the flames in the classic cars chat rooms and it was working like they'd planned. The bidding war was driving the price up and Mike was ringing every day and increasing his offers, conditional on it being the car he was looking for which he would need to verify in person, and Tony knew they had him. Jessie and Tony decided to take a break from sitting in front of the computer and visited the Philadelphia Museum of Modern Art and then went to an intimate little Italian restaurant for dinner. It was too soon to celebrate, but the former cop and the Boston detective were feeling like the contingency plan they'd formulate a decade ago was going to pay dividends.

They had him on the line, now they just had to reel him in and land him. Once he was safely behind bars, Tony was going to make damned sure he stayed there this time. He wasn't a promising rookie cop anymore, he was a seasoned federal agent with plenty of contacts and people who owed him big favours, and he was going to call in as many favours as it took to keep him in prison. It was time to call in Fornell so he'd be handy to do the mop up operation when Jess and Tony captured the powerful Mafia figure. He'd called him on a burn phone a few days ago to make sure he was okay and to warn him to be ready to go when he gave him the signal.

Fornell had been totally pissed that he hadn't gone to ground as he'd ordered, but Tony cut him off impatiently. He told Tobias that they were almost ready to capture Macaluso and he would need the assistance of the FBI since he couldn't afford to be associated with the arrest, because he was supposed to be on board the Reagan. Given that he didn't trust the Fibbies under the circumstances, he told Fornell that he'd only deal with him, and he gave him the names of his two former contacts at the bureau that would authorise his back up and hush it all up.

Tony pulled out a fresh burn phone after dinner while they waited on coffee and called the grizzled FBI agent. He advised him to get his team ready to fly to Philadelphia and be ready for the final phase of the take down tomorrow afternoon. There were still 36 hours to run on the auction and he was keen to get Macaluso ASAP. He had definitely reached the optimum level of anxiousness to start taking risks, but not desperate enough to be unpredictable. Of course, Tobias wanted to know how they were going to trap him, but there was no way that Tony was risking his sting that had been ten years in the making.

Before hanging up on the frustrated agent, he warned, "Very Ordinary Slacks had better stay in DC, Fornell. If I so much as see a photo of him, I swear I'll flip Vance the bird and hold a press conference myself. Just so we're clear?"

"Waterford!" Tobias smirked, mimicking Tony's flippancy with the NCIS Director a few weeks before. "Actually, I can hardly bear to look at him myself at the moment so I shipped him off to work cold cases in the New York Bureau for a bit. Not sure if we can get past this."

Agent Anthony Afloat

It had gone like clockwork. They'd given him a false address to meet in front of and then they were going to take a drive down a riverside park where the Fibbies were already guarding both exits. Macaluso had shown up with just one super tough goon because he was obviously trying to keep a low profile. The other reason was more prosaic; the head of the powerful mafia family had obviously found himself a tame cosmetic surgeon and his money and influence had bought him a new face.

Too bad he wasn't going to get to wear it outside of a prison cell because Tony had no trouble recognising the notorious crime figure. First off, there was the way he'd immediately gone to the two small imperfections that were not apparent to the naked eye to reassure himself that this was indeed the car that he'd courted and proposed to Arianna in. Then there were the flamboyant gestures and mannerisms that Tony would never forget.

They were expecting him to try and purchase the car outright and Jessie would talk up the price a little and then call her boyfriend who had the paperwork, and Tony would arrange to meet them at the park. They were hoping to arrest him out in the open away from innocent bystanders, but if necessary, they would take him down on the street outside the row houses that they'd pretended was where Jessie resided. They were both armed, but preferred to arrest Mike and his goon somewhere less public. Fortunately, Macaluso was eager to get his hands on the Giullietta, and so he agreed to drive to the park with Jess where her boyfriend would let him take the convertible for a test drive. They'd figured he wouldn't care about taking it for a test drive, but that he couldn't afford to reveal that he wasn't just another classic car nut, so he needed to play along.

Tony, dressed in motorcycle leathers and full faced helmet, tailed the mafia thug in Macaluso's car as well as Jessie and Mike in the Giullietta from a long way back. He'd borrowed some surveillance gear from the Fibbies and they both had coms and Jess was wired for both pictures and sound and the car was fitted with GPS tracking equipment just to be on the safe side. It had been unnecessary, though, and as Tony approached from the wrong direction, knowing that the FBI snipers had Jess under constant surveillance now they were in the park made his heart speed up, and he had to will himself to remain calm by taking lots of deep breaths.

Tony used the footpath to navigate through the park on his bike and started to work his way down through the gears until the last seconds when he accelerated hard and put the Kawasaki into a hard controlled skid. He deliberately crashed it into the hired muscle while he leapt swiftly off the bike and cuffed the thug to the handlebars of the Kawasaki even while his legs were still all tangled up with the bike. He turned on a dime and had his gun aimed at Macaluso, who was already staring down the barrel of Detective Sergeant Jessie Lawless' Glock, frozen in shock and also cuffed. Tony moved a few feet back and reached for his com to call in the FBI reinforcements to come and take the prisoners into custody. Taking off his helmet to wipe the sudden outpouring of sweat from his forehead now it was all over, the NCIS agent heard an animalistic snarl.

Then all hell broke loose as Macaluso, who'd instantly recognised Tony, tried to grab hold of Jessie's gun. It was obvious he wanted to avenge his downfall when Tony had wormed his way into the family and Tony was getting ready to take him down, when a shot rang out from one of the FBI sharpshooters and Macaluso went down with a neat hole in the middle of his head. _Just like Kate,_ he thought inconsequentially. He gave himself a mental shake and rushed over to Jessie, hugging her, needing reassurance she was fine and needing comfort himself.

They watched as the scene swarmed with the FBI team that had accompanied Fornell, who appeared to congratulate them both, trying to swallow the big shit eating grin he was sporting.

"Damn it, I was hoping he wouldn't make a threat against either of you. I really wanted to drag his butt back to jail."

_Yeah, Tobias, remind me not to let you sell ice to the Inuit's. You look real cut up about Mike's death, not! _Tony rolled his eyes, but in truth he wasn't exactly distraught about the former Don's demise either.

"Anyway, well done both of you. When we get done with the procedural stuff, I'm taking you both out for dinner and I want to hear all about this sting of yours and how you came up with it."

Hours later over a cold beer, Tony noticed a familiar look in Fornell's eyes.

"They read you in on what happened back in Philly, didn't they?" he accused.

Fornell just nodded sadly. Tony pushed his chair back, not noticing that it tipped over as he strode off and disappeared out of the restaurant into the dark. Fornell looked across at Jessie.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him. It stinks." The veteran agent wiped his hand over his lined face. "Should we go after him?"

Jessie shook her head emphatically. "No, Agent Fornell, he needs to be by himself for a while. This has been difficult for him. He's been undercover for the last ten years, but while he's gone there is something that I want you to do for him and me. Something else is going on with him and I'm guessing you might know something about it. He seems beaten, almost burnt out and I want him to come back to Boston with me and spend some time recovering. Tony didn't tell me much, but he did say he was on temporary secondment to the FBI while you caught Macaluso. Can you swing a month for him to come back home with me. He usually avoids contact because it's so painful for both of us, but we're together now and I think we both need to reconnect." She stared at him with her cobalt blue eyes pleading.

"I'll do my best, Detective Sergeant Lawless. I might not be able to swing a month, though I'll try my damndest. He's had a tough few years, but the last few months, well let's just say he deserves to spend some time with an ex-partner that cares about him so he can start to heal."

He stared at the cop, before deciding to ask. "Maybe now that Macaluso is dead, perhaps things can go back to the way they were."

Jessie stared at the FBI agent in shocked comprehension. "You were hoping for an excuse to take him down, weren't you?" She remembered that huge grin that he'd worn at the scene. "You were hoping that if he was dead that the threat would die, too. I hope you're right, Fornell, but ten years is a hell of a long time. Sometimes you can't go back, even if you want to. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Her eyes conveyed a mixture of hope and gratitude and Tobias realised that this cop was a stunner. He decided to seek her out the next time he found himself in Boston and ask her for on a date.

**Epilogue**

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo leaned back in his desk chair and surveyed the comfortingly familiar yet absolutely appalling burnt orange colour of the bull pen, and heaved a sigh of relief to be home. He'd been back for a couple of days now, but he was still pinching himself that he was really on terra firma once more. After a month spent in Boston courtesy of Jessie and Fornell, no thanks to Vance, and a further two months aboard the USS Seahawk, he was finally reassigned to DC as senior field agent for Gibbs' MCRT again. It was heavenly to sleep in his own bed again with his own expensive bed linen.

"Hey, Tony, did you hear about Mike Macaluso?"

"No, what's that, Probie?" McGee performed an eye roll of epic proportions, not exactly happy to have that moniker resurrected. He'd been the unofficial leader down in the cyber crimes basement after all.

"Mike Macaluso bribed some guards and escaped from prison. Lucky you were agent afloat at the time and safe cuz he swore he'd get even with you, didn't he, Tony?"

"Yeah, Probie, but you know what these dirtbags are like. Dumb as dirt and with a memory like Swiss cheese."

"That so, DiNozzo? Ya always said that the Family had a memory like an elephant and they never forget," Gibbs countered as he came round the corner.

"Um yeah, that's true, Boss, guess I'm lucky I was out at sea. So what happened, Probie, they caught him I hope?"

"Not exactly, Tony. The FBI arrested him and then he tried to take an agent's gun and they shot him right between the eyes."

Ziva jumped into the conversation, keen to join the fun. She'd missed being able to gang up on the juvenile agent and it had become a displacement behaviour since she was not allowed to kick the clap out of suspects. Americans were willy livered when it came to a little blood. Still, drawing metaphoric blood from DiNozzo was a satisfying diversion.

"At least you do not need to worry about him now, Tony. If you had been in DC, there is no doubt we would have had to save your mule."

"It ass not mule and really, Ziva, that's what you think?" Tony inquired, smiling strangely.

"Oh, yes, Tony." Ziva smirked in her oh so superior I'm a Mossad super spy manner, while McGee and Gibbs looked equally smug. "You are always lending trouble."

"You're probably right, Ziva. I'll remember to scream for you the next time trained assassins have me tied to a chair, beating me senseless and threatening to kill me with really sharp knives. And I'll be sure to call you, Probie, when I inadvertently turn the key on a car bomb so you can come and hold the key steady for me and I can run to safety before it goes off. Then of course, when I drive off a wharf with a civilian in the car to get away from gun toting dirtbags trying to give me extra orifices, I'll cry for Gibbs to take care of the kidnappers and then drag our mules out of the river and perform CPR. No way could I save my own worthless six. So glad we had this talk guys, I feel so much better." Tony started to laugh uncontrollably.

His team had the grace to squirm somewhat at the reminder of his competence and courage. It was easy to forget just how capable the senior field agent truly was because he didn't make a habit of throwing it in their faces.

"Touche DiNozzo, let's not forget getting thrown outta a plane, or chained to a serial killer or half dead Marine from a crazed killer either," Gibbs added dryly.

Tony smiled as he leaned back in _his chair. _It was good to be home, even if his team mates would never see him for who he really was.

SIX MONTHS LATER

Tony sat at his desk working on a cold case, since the last few days had been quiet ones for the MCRT. No bodies had turned up, no reports of assaults, terrorism or embezzlement had crossed their desks, and so the pile of cold cases were getting some much needed attention. Tony felt that closing a cold case, while difficult and unglamorous, was incredibly rewarding nonetheless. Helping families who were still waiting for closure was something he felt strongly about. Sometimes to simply have the comfort of knowing for sure that a loved one didn't come home because they couldn't, not because they decided to leave, meant everything to a victim's family and friends. For others, it was the freedom of knowing that their loved one's killer was not still out there preying on other innocent victims, even if their incarceration would never bring back the victims. It wasn't much, but to the families it was still a freedom of sorts.

Focusing intensely on the file in front of him, the phone ringing on his desk startled him and he picked it up distractedly.

"Yeah, Tobias, what can I do for you? When? Oh, God, I'll be right there."

He was already on his feet, grabbing his phone, wallet, badge and gun as he tossed over his shoulder. "Have to go, Gibbs. Old friend has been injured in an accident and they need me. I'll call as soon as I know how long I'll be gone," and he was gone before anyone had a chance to say anything. Once in the elevator, he collapsed against the wall in despair, pulling out his phone and dialling a number that had become second nature to him after the last few months.

"Jessie, Tia's coming. I need you, can you come?"


End file.
